Ashes
by Angel Ren
Summary: Victoria used to be human before. What events shaped her life? How did she die initially? How and why did she meet James? The full story, from the very beginning to her second death: one couple's unlikely love story is another person's untimely tragedy.
1. Charles

**Look! I have a new project! I'll be working on Cupcakes from time to time, but this is my current obsession. Victoria is often viewed as a cold hearted killer, but she wasn't always a vampire. She was human once, and somehow, her life shaped her unlife. That was something I wanted to explore. Come, follow Victoria through her childhood, her death, her second life, her loves, and ultimately, her second death. **

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_Ashes_

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_They say you can only ever love once. I've always wondered if that was true._

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Chapter One: Charles

_England, 1868_

"Victoria!"

I ignored the voice and continued to run up the stone stairs. I could feel my heart racing in my chest and my lungs started to burn. I had started running when I first walked into the building. My shoes had been lost near the stream – I would have to invent a story about them later. I had more important things to attend to, right now. Like Nana.

"Victoria!"

The voice was louder and closer this time, spurring me to run faster. The bottoms of my feet were sore from pounding up the stone stairs, but I did not slow the least bit, lest I get paddled.

Skidding to a stop, I bolted into my room and shut the door behind me. My eyes scanned the room quickly. I had perhaps about four minutes to destroy the evidence of my transgression and come up with a plausible explanation. Easy.

Without missing a beat, I popped away from the door and peeled off my dress. I winced as I heard the stays in the back pop, and it gave me a bit more trouble than I had planned when the stays hooked with my coiffure. I cursed in an extraordinarily unladylike fashion as several chunks of crazy-curled red hair pulled free from where it had been tightly pinned on my head.

I wadded up the gown in my arms and started to unfasten my petticoats. Before I could get the second one off, however, there was a knock on the door. Ninety seconds early. This required improvisation.

"Victoria, what the devil did ye get yehself into this time, little Miss?"

I tried not to roll my eyes as Nana opened the door without even waiting for me to let her inside. I tried to hide my wadded up dress under the bed, gently nudging it back behind the dust ruffle discreetly with my heel.

"Hi, Nana," I stalled for time. I really _had_ been counting on those last ninety seconds.

"Miss, what _have_ ye gotten into?"

I bit my bottom lip and pouted gently as she looked over me. Nana was a big woman – I was not, by any means, afraid of her, but she did have an intimidating appearance. I had decided when I realized what it was, that when I grew into a lady, I wanted to be intimidating, too.

She was very tall, even a bit taller than Mother. Unlike my mother, though, Nana was sturdily built, with large, muscles arms and a plump midsection. Mother was tall, graceful and slender, but she was meek. Even I could see her weakness to other people. I'd decided I wanted to be the best of both my matronly mentors; tall, slender, graceful, but not at all meek. They were not mutually exclusive.

Barely coming up to Nana's waist, I was hardly intimidating. And my short, pudgy fingers and skinny, stick-like legs were definitely not the epitome of ladylike grace. I still had a lot of ground to cover, but at least I could keep Nana from bullying me around.

"The Grovers' dog got loose again. I was trying to save Mother's flowers," I said softly, looking extra miserable for added effect. "But then the dog decided he wanted to play with me instead, and, I'm so sorry! But Nana, he was just so much fun! But he had been digging, so he was all dirty and when he 

jumped onto me, I got dirty too." I sniffled, letting a few tears run down my cheeks. "Please don't paddle me," I whined softly.

"Oh baby girl," Nana's hard exterior melted, and she reached down and gave me a hug. "Let's just get ye cleaned up before yer Mama comes home," she said. I tried not to smile, hiding my victory.

"Won't Mother be angry?" I asked in a breathy whisper. It sounded very convincing, even to my own ears.

"Baby, she will understand. Ye are only twelve, after all."

Buried in the folds of her apron as she patted out my tangled hair, I grinned triumphantly. I had won, again. And it had only taken a moderate amount of improvisation. When Nana pulled me away from her, however, my face had returned to a relief, still-slightly-petrified, innocent look. My heart was still thudding; I had one more lie to twist out of.

"I'll go start ye a bath, and then we'll get ye out of those dirty clothes," she said. I exhaled quickly in relief; she had just made my last trial so much easier. Nana, mistaking the reason for my relief, just smiled reassuringly. "Mother won't be angry, den' worry."

I bit back my smile as Nana turned away and walked into the bathroom. As soon as the door closed to keep the steam in as the hot water was drawn, I turned to my wadded-up dress under the bed.

Sparing the once-beautiful garment little mercy, I opened up the wad of fabric and pulled out my drawstring bag. I kicked the dress out of the way and glanced around my room quickly. I couldn't throw the bag into the dresser – Nana would look there for new garments, and it would soil the clean ones already in there.

I moved quickly, and opened one of the two French windows in my room and dropped the bag on the ledge outside. I shut the window just as I heard the door to the bathing room shut. I wheeled around and put my back to the window, eyeing Nana warily.

"Alright there, Miss? What are ye up to?"

"Just trying to air out the bedroom a bit… I'm afraid I made it smell bad," I said.

"Oh dear, den' worry about that. Come on, now, let's get you into your bath before the water gets cold and we have to draw yeh some more. Off with the petticoat now," she said before reaching toward me and peeling the layers of undergarments off of my body.

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Several minutes later, I found myself left to my own devices, lounging in the tub of scented bath water. I smiled; Nana had left me alone after making sure I was clean. I was certain now that my mud-stained clothing had been taken care of. Mother would never know.

I sighed and leaned back against the tub. Once again, I had managed to keep out of trouble. I had to smile – I was very good. Both Nana and Mother would have probably paddled me if they knew I had been down near the stream and up in the trees.

My loot – some pretty riverstones, an arrowhead, a bit of broken glass that had been in the river for a long time – sat in the bag outside my window waiting for me.

It was not the red glass or my dirty dress or dangerous behavior that would upset Mother and Nana, it was the fact that I had been with Charles the entire time without a chaperone. Charles was a boy from the village. He had not been born into the aristocracy like I had, and Mother would have a fit if she knew I associated not only with the commoner, but alone. I could almost picture the lecture she would give about my reputation.

I had little interest in rules or in doing what looked proper – I did what I wanted to do, and ninety-nine percent of the time, I got away with it.

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_"Look! I found an arrowhead!" Charles shouted excitedly while standing in the water, his britches hiked up to keep them dry. I glanced up from where I was standing on the bank, reaching for smooth, shiny rocks to add to my collection of riverstones._

_I could not help but smile in response to his boyish grin – the smallest things pleased him, and I found that quality refreshing. Though he was not a gentleman by title, he certainly was by nature. Extending his hand out, he helped me across the river._

_"Find any of the rocks you like, Miss Victoria?" He asked, his eyes sparkling with the excitement of our treasure-hunting. In response to his question, I held out my hands to display the three rounded stones I had found already._

_"Yes, look," I replied._

_With a professional interest, he looked over the stones with scrutiny, examining the smooth edge. One was a simple grey stone with some glittering substance inside it. Another was a pinkish hue and vaguely resembled a heart. The third was a beautiful sea-blue color, also with flecks of the reflective substance._

_He 'Hmm'ed thoughtfully and picked up the blue one to look at it more closely._

_"This one is incredible, I have never seen one quite like it before, Miss Victoria," he breathed in admiration. "You have got a great eye."_

_"You can have it, if you wish," I offered almost shyly. Would he say no? Would he think it was silly? It was hard to tell with Charles, but if he thought me foolish, he gave no indication of it. Instead, his cheekbones raised, his eyebrows shot up and his eyes widened in disbelief._

_"You mean it, really?" His voice was laced with equal excitement, as if he had just received a gift on Christmas._

_"Of course," I answered with more confidence than I had asked the question with. "On one condition," I added mischievously._

_"Which is…?" Charles' voice was wary, and I couldn't help but smile._

_"Call me Victoria, not Miss Victoria, please. We're friends, right?"_

_Charles' grin widened a bit._

_"Sure, I can do that, Victoria."_

_"Great. Let's see what else is here," I said, as I slipped my two remaining stones into my small bag I always brought with me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Charles slip the stone and the arrowhead he found into his pocket._

_I glanced back down to the water, looking to see if anything caught my eye._

_"Look, Charles! I found an arrowhead, too!" I lifted the small triangular stone out of the water triumphantly._

_"Excellent!"_

_I smiled as he congratulated my find, and I put the arrowhead with my other stones._

_We wandered through the water like that for quite a while. Charles was easy to be around. He did not ask the awkward questions, and he seemed to genuinely enjoy my company. He was sweet, and most importantly, he was one of the most honest people I knew._

_Thought I could lie well to anyone I wanted to, I never felt the need to lie to Charles. He always understood everything I said, and accepted it as it was, never making a big deal out of unimportant things, and being concerned when larger things occurred._

_"Victoria, oh wow, look at this!" Charles brandished something bright red. As he lifted it into the air, it caught the sunlight and scattered red light all over the stream._

_"What is it?" I asked, hiking up my skirts a little bit and splashing through the water over to where he was standing._

_"I think it is a piece of glass, but it must have been here a while. Look how smooth the edges are. And wow, look, it matches your hair perfectly." He held the glass up to the side of my face. It really was a beautiful piece of glass. I would have never thought that I would__ never thought that I'd__ find garbage so beautiful._

_"Wow, it really is pretty, Charles," I murmured as he placed it in my palm for me to look at._

_"Do you like it?"_

_"Of course I do. I like the smooth sides of it and the color is lovely," I answered honestly. I didn't notice the silence that followed the question, and when I glanced up at him, his eyes had a rather strange light in them._

_"Would you like to have it?" His voice was oddly soft, but I didn't inquire to the tone. I tore my gaze away from his and looked down to the flame-colored glass in my hand and turned it over once._

_"I would love to have it," I murmured. _

_"Then it's yours."_

_"Truly?" I glanced to him quickly for an affirmation. _

_"Yes," he replied slowly, and I waited for him to continue. "On one condition, Victoria." My tone had been light and playful, and his had turned serious. That strange light was still in his eyes, and I felt my heart skip a beat._

_"What is it?" The question slipped out as a whisper._

_"Will you allow me to give you a kiss? On the cheek, of course."_

_I stared at Charles for a moment, and I felt a blush the color of the glass in my hand color my face. After a moment of silence, I nodded._

_"Yes, I would permit that."_

_Carefully, Charles leaned toward me and pressed his lips to my cheek._

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I grinned, opening my eyes. Charles and I had been treasure-hunting together since I had first been able to sneak away from the watchful eyes of my keepers and go out on my own. I had met him for the first time near the big Oak tree. I had tried to climb it, and slipped. Charles had caught me. He was three years my senior, but age mattered little when you could share everything.

I promised myself that someday, I was going to marry that boy. I did not care what Mother or Nana would think of the idea. I knew what they would think already, and if they had any influence in my decision they would do everything in their power to stop it from happening. I sighed.

The bathwater was starting to cool, and I heaved myself out of the tub. I reached for the towel nearby and wrapped myself in it, stepping back into my bedroom. Sure enough, my dirty clothes were gone. After checking that the door was closed and bolted, I went to the window and pushed it open. Reaching around, I grabbed my forbidden treasure.

I shut the window, and after walking back to the bed, I turned the bag upside down. Five stones, an arrowhead, and the red piece of glass fell out. Seeing the glass, and remembering what I had traded to keep it, brought a blush back to my cheeks.

I felt a bit foolish, but I picked up the piece of glass and ran my fingers over the smoothness of it. The silky feeling of the glass was very calming. Without pausing to think about what I was doing, I lifted the glass above me so I could look through it at the window. The room looked red.

I pressed the glass to my lips and kissed it lightly. A flood of crimson washed through my cheeks and warmed my entire body, making even my toes tingle. I suddenly could not wait to see Charles again.

I set the glass down and scooped everything else back into the bag. After getting to my knees, I lifted up the loose floorboard near the foot of the bed and took out the box I had hidden there. Opening the lid, many riverstones stared up at me. There were a couple other arrowheads, and some folded pieces of parchments. Not only was I meeting with Charles, but I was teaching him his letters. Charles had never learned to write, and he was probably going to go into metal working like his father, and never get the chance to learn. I, on the other hand, had weekly lessons. I saved my work, and whenever we met tri-weekly for our treasure-hunting, I would take it and teach him what I had learned.t

I dumped the contents of the bag into the box and set the box back inside the floor, hiding my transgressions. I kept the red glass out and set my empty bag on the dresser.

After tossing my towel onto the floor, I crawled into my bed clothes. The sun was starting to set, and I could probably convince Nana that I still felt guilty about rescuing some flower patch from a fictional terror and getting my dress dirty, and she would bring my dinner in my bed.

I paused in front of the large, oval arch mirror, and fluffed out my brilliant red hair. I smiled as the crazy curls framed my face. Not only was the brilliant red color out of fashion these days, but the proper style was to keep the hair sleek, smooth, and pinned back impeccably.

Though I desired to be lady-like like my mother, I never wanted her smooth, slick ebony hair. She was always trying to force my hair to be straight, from hot irons to goats' milk, nothing ever seemed to work. I had the sneaking suspicion that somehow, mother took some devious joy from yanking away at my curls. Why she hated my hair so, I had no idea. If I had my way, I would wear it down all the time.

I shook my head again, letting the shoulder-length curls bounce around madly, as if rejoicing in their temporary freedom. They would be permitted to cascade over my pillow tonight, but tomorrow morning, Nana would be trying to pin them up again.

Drawing my night shift around me, I walked toward the bed and crawled beneath the layers of blankets and warmth. The pillow conformed to the shape of my head as the bed accepted my weight graciously.

I hadn't realized how tired I had been after romping through the woods with Charles today until I had crawled into bed. Remembering Charles reminded me of my treasure in my hand. I moved my closed left fist in front of my face, and slowly opened my fingers. There was the piece of red glass.

I could not help but smile. I rolled over onto my side and slipped the glass beneath my pillow. Once sure that it was safe, sleep came easily to me that evening, quickly overpowering my conscious body and taking me – not unwillingly – into its depths.

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**Hey! Look! You read through the first chapter all the way! Since you read it, please, please take a moment to leave me a review. I'm not in the habit of begging for them, but they're so useful to me. I've never really written anything quite like this, so I'd love feedback. Did you hate it? Tell me! Love it? Let me know! Thanks so much!**


	2. Secrets

_Ashes_

Secrets

_England, 1872._

It had been a lazy day, much to my liking. Unusually lazy. Almost suspiciously so. I had been sitting in the drawing room for most of the day working on the new needlepoint project Mother was trying to coax me to learn. Coax was a kind word, and perhaps underserved the pretense under which I studied the terrible thing. Perhaps threatened, bullied, or forced is a better word to describe how I came to my predicament. Nevertheless, I still welcomed the quiet reprieve I found myself in, even if I had to share it with my needlepoint.

I personally found needlepoint very dull, perhaps because I had a penchant for pricking myself more often than the fabric I was working with. It was dull, tiresome, and utterly stupid in my opinion.

There was no point and purpose to stitching, other than inflicting pain.

Perhaps that was why Mother had chosen to use it as a punishment of sorts. Once. There had been one occasion in which I had been caught with Charles that I had been unable to lie my way out of.

I sighed, pausing in my work before tossing the stupid frame aside. I wanted to go running through the woods again. I had not seen Charles in a week, and my heart was aching to be near him again.

Only last week I had realized a frightening fact: I was in love with him. Frightening, because Mother would never have such an arrangement. Frightening, because I wanted the arrangement more than anything else in the world. And frightening because I knew he felt the same way. We could, single handedly, ruin my family's name by running off together. Frightening, because I realized I did not care what shambles I left behind me.

I rubbed my fingers over a smooth, warm piece of red-colored glass. The glass was four years, two months and fifteen days old. I remembered the moment Charles had given it to me – it had been our first kiss, even though I had only been twelve, and he had been fifteen. It hardly counted by the standard for kisses these days, but I still remembered.

"You're thinking about that boy again, aren't you, Tora?"

The smile slipped off my face as my dream-like world shattered around me. I looked over to the doorway, eyeing Mother with irritation. Whether the irritation was for the wretched nickname she seemed to use more whenever I asked her not to, or for the veiled insult behind her sentence, I did not care.

I chose to ignore her, inclining my head toward the window and looking outside. Mother, with her ever-perfect hair and her frightening steel-colored eyes, continued to stand in the doorway.

Last month, Charles had introduced me to his mother and father. Never before had I seen such love in a mother's eyes. His mother was a beautiful woman, brown wavy locks and big brown eyes, a stocky, study build. Her hands were weathered from manual labor, but even so, her touch was softer than my own mother's creamy hands.

Charles' father was a kindly man, though I'd had no fatherly figure of my own to compare it to. If my father were anything like Charles' father, then I missed my own dearly.

It had been a gamble on both our parts, Charles was sure that his parents would understand our situation, but I had been afraid that they would breathe word of it to my mother. Whether they were kindly people or not, whether they had our best intentions at heart or not, it was still dangerous for them to be involved.

If they were really good people wishing to preserve their reputation, they would have gone straight to Mother and told her what Charles and I were up to.

However, as I had quickly learned, "good" and "kindly" were not often the same thing. By the definition of a good mother and Duchess, my mother was the epitome of it all. But Charles' parents were the definition of kindly and understanding.

His mother had graciously welcomed us into her home, and though her eyes had widened, and she had gasped slightly when he introduced me, she had been nothing but accommodating.

At first, his mother, Meredith, had fluttered around and tried to settle me into the most comfortable part of the house and tried to make accommodations that I would be used to in my own home. It wasn't until Charles interceded and informed her that were I such a fragile doll that needed such frivolities, I wouldn't have been playing near the stream where Charles' and I met every other day to begin with.

We had then spent the next hour sitting at their rough, worn kitchen table, laughing, talking, and exchanging stories about Charles.

"They like you, you know. A lot," Charles had whispered in my ear as we left.

That had been the last time I had seen him, a full week ago. I could only wonder what he thought of me. Did he think I had run away because his family was too poor for my tastes? Did he wonder if I had been caught, and locked up in my own home? Had he given up on me?

"Victoria."

Damn. My mother had not left. With an indifferent shrug, I glanced over in her direction. Her steel eyes narrowed at my nonchalance.

"Yes, Mother?" I inquired politely, though my voice had undercurrents of resentment.

"Forget about that boy. He's no good to you, he's a gold digger. He wants to inherit your fortune."

I turned and looked back out the window quietly. I had heard this argument before; I could almost predict its course. She would continue on and elaborate about the rules of polite society, and then explain how it was almost time for my coming-out in London next fall. I didn't much like the idea of having to pack up my things, leave the English countryside, and move into the city for a season of waltzing with men twice my age looking to bed me as a wife while my heart belonged to someone here.

"He will take your fortune and your virtue – if he hasn't yet – and then leave you with nothing. That is not how we go about business in our echelon. He is not one of us, dear, he is one of _them._ "

I just continued to stare out the window. If I have any indication of irritation, it would spur her on a tirade, and Heaven only knew when she would stop.

"Anyway, I wanted to inform you that we have decided to cancel your coming-out next year." I could almost hear the smugness in her voice, and I could tell she was provoking me. I tried to give no indication that I cared either way. I knew it was not because she had found it in the kindness in her heart and was going to let me marry Charles.

At best, it was a ploy to get a reaction. At worst, it was true, and she had even worse plans in mind for me. I sighed, and caved. I canted my head to the side to look at her, but continued to say nothing.

"I have found you a husband," she announced smartly. Her devilish grin widened when my façade broke. My head snapped to look at her, my skin pale and my jaw dropped. She knew that she had won.

"No," I said. "What about the fall?"

"I was thinking about that, and I decided that… you're too dangerous, Victoria. I can't afford to put you out in the public. Instead, I will arrange for a quiet marriage to a very nice man. You will be married in a month, and you will be a nice wife and raise a good family."

I had no response for her heinous idea. I could only stare, dumbfounded, as she smiled like a cat that had just caught its prey.

"What did you say," I asked slowly, my voice barely above a whisper.

"He is a Duke's son. He will make a fine husband, and you will bare him strong, handsome children."

I exhaled slowly, trying to rein my temper in. If I lost control of my anger, I would lose everything with this devil woman. After taking the moment to make sure my temper was quiet, I asked softly.

"Alright, I must ask – how many years does he have?"

Mother hesitated for a moment before answering, as if savoring the moment. "Thirty last fortnight."

I could not stop my reaction. Though I knew she only wished for my violent reactions and that she took pleasure in my recoil, I could not prevent my body from jumping from the chair and flying to the door.

It was not until I was back in my room and collapsed on my bed that I realized I had run the entire way. I did not bother to close the door – Mother would not follow me. She had her moment of triumph, she would not follow.

I think, perhaps, she had seen the look in my eyes. The moment the thought had passed through my mind, I believe she saw it on my face. The firepoker was near where she was standing. It would have been effortless to lunge for it, grab it, and smash it across her head. I had entertained the idea briefly, and as soon as I realized that if I did not flee the devil woman's presence, I might carry out my frightening crime of passion. I had fled so that I would not do something I would regret.

The part that frightened me the most was not the disturbing idea that I nearly killed my mother, but that if I did, I would feel no remorse for her death, only for the fact that I committed the act myself. I would feel remorse that I felt no remorse – as abstract was the concept was, it made perfect sense in my mind. And it frightened me.

I sat up on the bed, and in one, flourishing, punishing movement, I ripped my hair out of its hairpins. I bit my lip to keep from screaming in pain, but it was a sweet sensation. Some part of me was still human, to flinch and feel that sort of pain.

My angry curls tumbled around my body, bobbing to the middle of my back. I wiped the tears that had sprung to the corners of my eyes before thrusting my fingers angrily into my hair.

I had always known that something would happen. Eventually. I would go to London, wear an ornate gown, let the gentlemen of the _ton_ dance with me in hopes one would seek marriage. I had planned on having a little time to devise an escape to marrying one of the gentlemen without ruining my family's name. But now, I had no time. And no way out. Not a pleasant way, anyway.

I slid off the bed and started pacing around the room. There had to be something I could do. I would _not_ settle into the life of a common housewife, married into a life I did not want with a man I did not love.

I spun around in a circle, my panic starting to grow. The walls seemed smaller in my room, the space seemed more closed in. It seemed as the more I thought about my new situation, the tighter my room became. I found it hard to breathe, and my anxiety spiked to a point that I could not see well. My vision swam and my mind ran in senseless circles. For the first time, I panicked.

My vision cleared quite suddenly as my gaze landed on my dresser. There, right next to my bed, was Charles' glass. As clear as my vision became, everything fell into place.

Damn my family. Mother didn't care about me, why should I care about ruining the last shreds of her family name and leaving her alone? Father had died when I was very young, Consumption had taken him. I did not remember much, Nana kept me away from him so that I wouldn't catch it. Two of 

the servants had to be dismissed into a doctor's care for quarantine after he had passed away. I had never heard from them since.

I did not care. I would go see Charles.

Tonight.

"Victoria?"

I did not wish to speak with Nana right now. Perhaps if I ignored her, she would vanish. I had to preparations to make.

I went to my closet and withdrew a bag. I pulled up the floorboard, not caring for what Nana saw. It did not matter, I was leaving permanently. I no longer had secrets.

I stuffed the letters that Charles had written to me once he had become proficient in writing, the silly rocks we had collected together, and a few other baubles that I held near and dear. The last thing I slid into the small bag was the red glass I always kept with me.

"Victoria, before yeh run away to yer man, I think there is something yeh should know."

I paused, and glanced over to the woman warily. Deciding that I had little time to work with anyway, and surrendering it now to Nana… I didn't want to take that chance. I grabbed my coat and shoved my arms through the sleeves and stopped in front of the desk mirror.

Mercilessly, I started yanking my hair back into a thick, wild braid, trying to tie the locks back.

"Here." Nana's strong arms reached and took my hair from my hands. Automatically, I sank into the chair as I was used to, and allowed her skilled hands to brain my hair. I stared at my reflection in the mirror. It was an odd sight – I looked panicked, terror-stricken, even. I looked older, too, as if my decisions had started to carve out of the workings the woman I wished to be.

"Can we talk, Miss?" I glared at her reflection in the mirror defiantly.

"I'm going, you cannot talk me from it," I warned.

"Oh, I know. But if ye leave, Miss, I am quite sure I may never see or hear of you again. Perhaps the best for ye, to be happy with the boy, but there is something I wish to impart before yer leave."

I stared at her reflection, her skilled fingers twisting my hair into a braid. Some of the wild, red strands sprung free, but most remained coiled in the thick braid. I rather liked the look; not nearly as confining as the coifs that high society demanded of me, and yet restrained enough that my hair did not impair my vision.

"About yer father, Miss."

I stilled, and my wary expression melted into something far more curious. I knew little of my father, due to my age at the time of his illness, and as such, no one had decided to inform me after the fact when I was old enough to understand. All I knew was it had been Consumption, but judging by the haunted look in Nana's eyes, she had more to tell.

"Yer father… was not the best of men, I'm afraid," she murmured, continuing to twist the long hair as she spoke. "And yer mother… is not actually yer mother." I saw her glance to my reflection in the mirror to check my response. I could only stare.

"What?"

"Yer father had an affair – several, really – but in one case, the woman became pregnant. "

I just stared at her, slowly processing the information. Sensing my trouble, Nana continued quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Pregnant with ye."


	3. Runaway

Chapter Three

Runaway

"Yer mother was impotent. For whatever reason, the good Lord did not wish to bless her with a child of her own. Yer father tried many times, but yer mother could not carry. Her body aborted twice, and the devastation of losing two children nearly destroyed her.

"She wanted to keep trying, but the doctor thought if her body aborted a third child, it might kill her in the process. Yer mother was willing to take that chance to have a baby, but yer father was not.

"It was not unusual for yer father to go out and dally. It broke yer mother's heart, and the two become bitter toward each other. Fights broke out constantly, I heard them all meself. More, and more often, over smaller and smaller things.

"They used to love each other, really, they did," Nana explained in a rather detached voice, as if it were an easier story to recount from a neutral, third-party perspective. In a way, I imagined that it would. I could almost picture Mother as a loving woman, trying so desperately to have her own child, and then turning bitter and hateful when she could not.

I mulled over this new information in the pause Nana gave me to consider, as if she knew she was throwing a lot of information at me. Information that was, by nature, more difficult to process than most. After a moment, she continued quietly, still braiding through my thick hair.

"Then, finally, one day, yer father told her that he was a father. To a child. Yer mother about had his head when he told her, furious. She threatened to expose him and demanded to know who carried her husband's baby," Nana paused, finishing up with my hair. She smiled softly, wistfully, at some long-ago memory. I could understand mother's anger, after trying so hard to bear a child, and then her husband went and made one with another women… so effortlessly, as if to laugh in her face.

I frowned – I did not believe that the vision of my father in my head that I had created through the years that resembled Charles' father was at all accurate now.

"Her name was Imogen," she continued. My heart stuttered in my chest at the name. It sounded so perfect. Victoria, daughter of Imogen. It sounded much more plausible than Victoria, daughter of Winnifred.

"It's a beautiful name… it seems like… it would suit someone who was like me. What happened to her? Where is she now?" I was surprised at how well I was processing this information. I was at a complete understanding with the fact my father had created me – not with the woman I called Mother, but with another woman entirely. However, despite the ease at which I learned these things, my palms were still sweating and my fingertips still tingled. A very, very dark sense of dread had crept over me, as if the greatest sin was not the affair.

"She used to work for yer parents. She was a cook. An Irish immigrant, s'where your hair comes from, I'm sure. Imogen had beautiful, flaming' red hair, just like yers. And yer big, beautiful green eyes. Yer mother hated yer hair – it reminded her of the woman yer father had taken to his bed and given him what she could not," Nana paused, sighing, as if the story were growing too painful to tell.

I watched her exhale, and for the first time, I saw a sense of vulnerability in the strong woman I had known all my life. Her hands trembled slightly and the creases in her brow looked deeper now. Nana looked… old. Never had I imagined that such a strong, intimidating woman would grow old. Everyone did, I supposed, but it just didn't seem like something that would happen to her.

She looked feeble, as if shocked by the memories. I could only imagine what the ordeal itself had done to her. Perhaps it had hardened her into the strong woman she was now; the one I had always known.

I waited, Nana had more to say, but she was not quite ready to continue. After another moment of gathering herself, she looked up and continued her story.

"Imogen… died… in childbirth. She died giving birth to ye, Miss." Nana watched my face carefully, but I could not help the blood washing from my face. My palms felt warm and sweaty, my fingertips tingled even more. The chair I was sitting in felt like it could not hold me, as if the flimsy wooden frame would shatter beneath my body. I realized, then, that my body was trembling. Violently.

"Here, Miss, have a seat."

With her rough hands, she lifted me up and eased me over onto the bed. Promptly, I collapsed onto my back and stared up at the ceiling, my mind reeling. Was it really such a surprise to learn that mother's reason for hating me was rooted so deeply in family corruption and scandal? Maybe it was only the fact that she had a reason for hating me that surprised me so.

Perhaps I had always known. Perhaps, deep inside of myself, I knew that something was off between my mother and I, something that existed between Charles and his mother that had never grown to bloom between Mother and I.

It was not that I was a bad person; it was simply that Mother could not love me because I was not hers. I felt tears prickle at the corners of my eyes.

"When Imogen died, the child was left with the father. Yer father had no choice but to raise ye, child. Normally, yeh would have stayed with yer mother, but… well. Imogen was a sweet woman. She had a bit of a temper, though. Ol' Irish blood." Nana laughed softly, reminiscing.

"One time," Nana conceded, dabbing a tear from the corner of her eye, her lips turned up in smile as she remembered something fond. "One time, the maid tripped and nearly dropped the silver on the floor. Imogen about thrashed her for it. I swear to yeh, Miss, Imogen chased that woman aroun' the kitchen with a fryin' pan for a full five minutes." I couldn't help but smile at the thought. The mental image of a small, red-haired woman chasing someone around the kitchen with a frying pan fit. _That_ was something my mother would do. _That_ was the sort of person I was related to. I liked the idea.

I entertained the memory Nana had provided me for a moment before new questions surrounding the scandal bubbled to the surface.

"But I do not understand… why would Mother want to raise her husband's illegitimate child?" I found it much easier to ask questions as a third party – not as the mistake in question. I could offer a polite, aloof interest, as if in the end it did not concern me.

"Well, she did not. At first. Yer mother tried to get yer father to put ye into an orphanage. No child was better than a wrong child, she said. She threatened to expose yer father for the cantankerous adulterer that he was."

"But she didn't," I said, when Nana paused. "Otherwise, I would not be here, would I?"

"Yer father promised her that if she ever breathed a word to anyone about his affair and child, then he would explain that he had to do it to have a child since yer mother was barren. And yer mother couldn't live with that shame, so she agreed to raise ye as her own child. As if Imogen had never existed."

I sighed, thinking it over. I had always wondered what Father was like, and now I had a rather descriptive idea about his nature. But everything about Mother made sense; she had always seemed to hate my hair, and I could never find any traces of my mother in me. Sure, I resembled my father. At least, I looked like the portrait of him. His cheekbones were on my face, and I had his high brow. My green eyes and red hair, though, were unlike any I had ever seen in any family portraits. I reasoned that I must be the spitting image of Imogen – it was no wonder my mother couldn't love me. She couldn't stand to look at me and see the woman who had bedded her husband.

"And ye see, yer mother was so afraid someone would find out about yer blood – daughter of an Irish immigrant – what would the _ton_ think of yeh? What would the_ ton_ think of _her_? She had to marry yeh off in hopes that a respectable husband would marry yeh, and no one would find out ye were not her child."

I did not like this new information. I did not like the idea that mother had a rational reason for her terrible actions. It was almost easier to leave knowing she was wrong, I was right, she hated me for no reason. Now, it was harder. As much as she hated my hair, as much as she disliked what I represented, her motivations for marrying me off were to ensure a good future for me – and to keep the family name clean and free of scandal, too.

"How do you know so much about this, Nana? About… Imogen?"

Nana sighed shakily and looked up at the ceiling.

"I was there," she whispered.

I tilted my head to the side, not quite understanding. I waited, though, and sure enough, Nana lowered her gaze to mine.

"I was there when you were born," she repeated.

I felt a strange warming sensation. Nana had been with me since the very beginning. She had been at my birth; she had probably held me in her arms. The thought brought a strange feeling to me. Nana had always been the guardian I had outsmarted as a child. Now, in my more mature age, she had become more of a confident. I did not doubt that Nana was not as blind to the goings-on between Mother and I as she might seem.

A cold dread washed over me as I realized the implication behind her words. My warm, feverish feeling of adoration for the woman who was present for my first breath in this life vanished as chills washed over my body in their place.

"You watched Imogen die," I whispered.

Nana's haunted gaze was the only affirmation I needed.

"We tried so hard. There was so much blood…" She murmured, rubbing her face. "But I thought ye should know. About yer mother, and why she… well. That's the story then, and I can die in peace now, knowing ye know it. One last thing before ye run," she said. Nana reached into one of the pockets and fished out something.

On instinct, I held out my hands to her, and a cool chain with a weight on the end dropped into my hands. I held up the necklace to inspect the pendant closely, surprised to find an oval shape with a man's face carved into it. I looked to Nana curiously, awaiting explanation.

Nana rarely gave something to anyone, but when she did, it always had a purpose. She had always been a very practical person, and the idea of her giving out something as frivolous as jewelry was inconceivable unless there was a reason for it.

"His name is St. Julian. He is the patron saint of wanderers. I pray he will watch over ye on your travels. Ye were never made to be confined within these stone walls. Ye were born to a fiery young Irish woman who missed the wide open spaces of her homeland terribly, but had no choice to lock herself up in servitude. If she could have run, she would have run far, far away, back into the wilderness where something as wild as she belonged. It is no surprise to me that the day has come when ye need to run, now. And I doubt ye will ever stop moving. Yer spirit is too free for that, Miss Victoria. Be safe, little nomad."

I turned away from Nana before she could see the tears building in my eyes. I had not anticipating regretting leaving Nana, but there was nothing left to be done. It was time to go.

I made busy work of regathering my coat and bag, and with one quick movement, I turned and gave her a swift hug.

I had no wants, and little regrets. For a woman who had had every known luxury at her fingertips, I was oddly complacent to run to Charles'. His parents would accept me, I was sure.

"Thank you, for everything," I whispered. Without waiting for the response, I darted past her and into the hallway. I ran along the carpet, not bothering to pay my last respects to the place I had called home for the last sixteen years.

It didn't matter anyway.

I was free.


	4. Angel

_Ashes_

Chapter Four

Angel

I had not realized how dark it was as I leaped from the stairs and ran outside. The sun was setting behind the trees, but I did not care. I ran away from the large country manor. The grass whisked at my feet and caught the hems of my coat and dress. My black laced boots added excellent traction.

I drove forward, plunging into the darkness of the night. Once, when I was a child, I had been afraid of the dark. Someone would have to light a candle in my room at night before I could fall asleep, and if I awakened in the middle of night, the exhausted candle would have to be replenished and lit again before I could sleep again.

Now, the darkness was my friend. It welcomed me into its waiting arms, carefully, beautifully and protectively. In the darkness, I was not Winifred's daughter, heiress to the Hillcrest fortune. I was Victoria.

And I was _wild_.

My heart raced, and St. Julian's pendant rested against my chest, like a shield of armor over my heart. Nana was right about something – I belonged here, in the wild, in the open, in the free, not in some castle's bedchamber with maids doting on me and making sure my bed linens were warm.

I had done some scary things before in my young life, none of them seemed nearly as frightening as bolting off into the woods in the darkness and not knowing precisely where I was going, and yet, I was not scared.

I had only been to Charles' place once before, nearly a week ago now. I was not entirely certain I could find it again, but I had no alternative but to try.

"Victoria!"

I could hear Mother's, no, Winifred's voice in the darkness as she yelled from the door. A pang of guilt hit my heart, but now that I was a part of this sweet wilderness around me, I could not go back. Ever.

It had been freeing when Charles and I went treasure hunting in the forests, but I had never been truly free when I did that. I always had to go home. Now, home was wherever I wanted it to be.

The thought made me throw my head back and laugh as I ran harder. Spurred my delight and the burning need to finally see Charles again, I continued to run until I physically could not. My legs buckled weakly beneath me, and my side heaved and burned. My vision swam for I could not inhale deeply enough with the blasted corset on.

I vowed, then, the next time I ever changed clothes, the corset would come off and _never_ go back on.

My feet stopped at the river's edge. I was back at Charles' meeting place. I looked around, half-expecting him to be standing on the bank grinning. I smiled softly before stepping carefully across the smooth, moving waters.

On the other side, I took a moment to make sure I knew where I was going. In the darkness, everything looked different. Wilder. More dangerous.

Once certain that I recalled the way that Charles had led me the week before to go to his house, I picked my way through the trees, winding down through the brush. Twice, my coat got caught on a bush and I had to wretch it free.

Thrice, I thought I had gone the wrong way, and started to turn about, only to find the way back did not appear the way I remembered it.

My heart was hammering, sweat prickling on my brow, as I moved around. The shadows seemed larger and more intimidating than they should have been, but I plunged on. Worst case scenario was that I never found Charles and I died in the woods.

I reasoned that, in light of going home and marrying some thirty year old man, death was an acceptable alternative. I had nothing to worry about – I had nothing to lose, and therefore, there were no regrets.

I paused in the middle of the darkness, listening. Not for a sound that I had heard, but for a lack of a sound. No noise came from around me; no owls hooting, no crickets chirping. The pure darkness was unsettling, and for the first time, I felt a raw fear grip my body. I could not explain why my body felt the urge to run, but it did.

Normally, in the evening, even the quietest of evenings, there existed the sound of crickets, or an occasional hooting of an owl. Even the wind rustled through the trees.

Now, there was no sound, no breath of wind. It was still as death around me and it felt very, very wrong. A predator was near. Something unforgiving. The prey had scattered, leaving an ignorant and oblivious human standing in the shadows.

Behind me, a low snarl sounded. Without warning, I turned and ran. The sound of a large animal leaping from the woods bounded behind me, stirring me to run faster. As much as dying would be acceptable, I would try my hardest to reach Charles. I would fight for my last breath.

Branches whipped at me as I ran blindly, scratching my skin and causing me to bleed. The animal behind me growled again, its four legs picking up speed against the ground. It was gaining on me.

As if to spite me, my ankle caught a hole in the ground. It had been a miracle that I had not tripped before then, somehow. Running blind in the woods, I had managed to stay on my feet.

Now, within seconds, the ground crashed up to meet me, knocking the wind from my chest. With a cry, I tried to leap to my feet, but found that not only was my ankle caught, it was sprained.

Still willing to fight to live, I rolled over onto my back so I could face the oncoming animal. Blindly, in the darkness, I groped around for a branch or a stick to hit the brute with. I found a moderately-sized branch, and I drew it into my lap, and waited.

A low growl rippled from the brush fifteen feet in front of me. The plants shuddered, and a dark form leaped out of hiding. It must have been a wolf, or something equally fearful and powerful. I caught the glint of the moonlight in its eyes and its teeth as it came at me, airborne.

Holding the branch tightly in my hands, I waited, holding my breath. As soon as it got close enough, I was going to swing at it and hit it with all my strength and hopefully render it unconscious.

A soft, eerie whisper of a hiss sounded from a bush ten feet to my right. It was unlike the growl of the large animal, but somehow, it was even more frightening. Was I about to be attacked by two wild animals, now? Was that my fate? I doubted my ability to fend off two at once; I might have had some luck with just the one.

My heart was pounding so fast, I was certain it was going to shatter into a thousand pieces in my chest. Sure as the dawn, a second, shadowy creature leaped from the foliage at my right. It did not, however, lunge for my body. Instead, it caught the first animal mid-flight. They both went tumbling to my left, disappearing back into the darkness. One animal was fighting the other.

There was a loud, howling noise, a shrieking, and then, everything was quiet again. I stayed still, waiting to see if the living one would come to finish me off.

I heard no sound.

Slowly, I let out an exhale, continuing to glance around.

Still, no sound, even as I held my breath and listened. Carefully, I tried my leg. I pulled it free gently from the hole, wincing as it stung. It came free, however, and very carefully, while leaning heavily on a nearby tree, I eased myself to stand on my good leg. Very gently, very slowly, I lowered my weight onto the bad ankle. It protested and hurt, but it could support my weight.

I exhaled in relief. It would be slow and painful, but I could move. Leaning from one tree and reaching for the next, I carefully shuffled my way in the direction I thought was the right way to go.

"Hang on, Charles, I'm going to make it," I whispered through a grunt of pain.

"Don't go that way."

I gasped, and turned to my left quickly. A man stood in the shadows, taller than average, perhaps six feet tall. I could not make out much of his frame, but he stood perfectly still. The moonlight caught against some light hair and fair-colored skin.

His voice was heavenly. Sweet, smooth, very gentle, though there was something alarming about him.

"If you mean the Harrisons, they're the other way. Are you injured?"

Slowly, as if he were afraid that any sudden movement might frighten me, he stepped out of the darkness. I could not help but gasp.

It was as if God Himself were standing before me. He was tall – taller than six feet. He wore a dress shirt and pants with a long overcoat draped over the garments. His beautiful golden hair brushed in the wind. His face was that of an angel's: perfectly chiseled. I could find no flaw in his features. The moonlight seems to make his pale skin glow. I felt a blush flood my cheeks; either God had sent an angel to save me tonight, or the Devil himself was in disguise.

His eyes glanced up to mine, and in that instant, I was sure he was no human. Angel or devil, I knew not, but human he couldn't be. His eyes were the brightest color of amber, but they held nothing but concern.

"Let me see your ankle," he said slowly, his words like music in the air. I could only nod as he knelt down to the ground in front of me. The sight of the golden angel on his knees before me struck me as odd, as if I were the one who should be kneeling before him.

"I'm going to try and help your ankle, alright?" He turned his face up to look at mine, concerned. I swallowed heavily and nodded, still leaning heavily against the tree. He lowered his gaze and lifted up the hem of my coat and dress gently. He sighed, discovering my leather walking boots.

"Why don't you sit down?" My heart raced as he asked, and I slid down the tree until I was sitting on the earth. "Do you mind if I remove the boot? It might be broken, I'm afraid." Again, all I could do was nod, stupefied. _Angel. He must be an angel._

Gently, he untied the laces and eased the boot from my foot. He set it aside delicately before reaching for my ankle slowly, again. I gasped as a swift coldness flooded through my ankle when he touched me.

The angel paused, and glanced up to me. His golden eyes peered through his matching golden hair.

"Forgive me," he murmured softly. He glanced back down to his work, and reached into his pocket. "Fortunately, it is only a sprain. Here." From his pocket, he withdrew a thin strip of bandage.

Again, with painstaking slowness, as if he were afraid he would move too quickly, he wrapped my ankle with the bandage.

"Not too tight, is it?"

"No," I whispered. The first word I had been able to say to my guardian angel. He smiled appreciatively, and nodded. With grace I had never seen in a man, he eased my foot back into the boot, lacing it up just enough to hold my foot within the boots.

Elegantly, he rose to his feet like fluid, and then extended his hand down to me. Carefully, I reached for his hand. Expecting it this time, his touch did not startle me. Perhaps angels were cold naturally.

Gently, he closed his hand around mine, as if I were made of glass, before easing me to my feet. Against my protest, he wound his arm around my waist, and helped me walk through the woods. He seemed to know precisely where I was headed.

I supposed angels knew everything, perhaps like God. I smiled faintly, blushing. He took the weight I leaned on him as if I weighed nothing, and I was grateful. Together, he supported me as I limped through the forest.

"How do you know where we're going?" I whispered, turning to look at him. In reality, I just wanted to hear his voice again.

"I've been through here before. Charles Harrison, right? His mother is Meredith?" When I nodded, he only smiledWe continued on in silence. I could not help but notice how strong he felt beneath me, as if he could bear the weight of a thousand stones and not flinch. His hand was cold, but knowing that he as a messenger of God, it did not bother me. I felt safe.

Before I realized it, the angel had led me to Charles' doorstep. His arm slipped from around my waist as he stepped backward. I turned to thank him, for saving my life, for leading me to my lover, but there was no sign of him.

I looked around behind me, searching for any sign of the man. The night behind me was empty.

My angel was gone.


	5. Elopement

Chapter Five

Elopement

"Anything else I can get her?" Meredith's soft voice echoed in the quiet room. There was no response for a moment, and only the _pop_ of the fire in the hearth answered.

"Victoria?" Charles' soothing voice whispering in my ear, and I glanced up at him from my place curled against his side. I stared into his dark colored eyes before reaching up to brush aside some of his dark blond hair from his eyes.

"No, I think I am fine now, thank you."

Charles leaned over and pressed his lips to my temple. I closed my eyes and exhaled slowly. Pure bliss. I felt his arm around me squeeze me slightly.

"I'm so glad you are alright. I still cannot believe you ran," he murmured again.

We had been lying like that, curled against each other in front of his hearth.

Perhaps hearth was not the proper word. In my parlor, there was a stone hearth. Right now, we were wrapped in blankets, sitting on the hard floor in the kitchen before the fire that heated the kettle. Meredith had been impressed with my ankle bandage, and unsure how my angel-sighting would be taken, I said I had hastily done it myself.

Charles sat upright, and I leaned against his side, my head against his shoulder, his arm draped around me.

His mother had been positively shocked when she had answered the door and found me standing there, clothes torn and dirtied, hair falling down. One warm bath later, Charles and I were reconciling our lost time.

"I missed you," he whispered. "But… are you ever going to tell me what happened?" His hand came to touch my cheek, his thumb brushing along a scratch. I did not recall when I received which cut, but most had, undoubtedly, occurred when I had fallen, I was certain.

"I was just coming to see you," I explained as I tried to sound indifferent. "I missed you, too. I was tired of mother telling me I had to stay indoors and learn that dratted needlepoint."

I felt his body exhale suddenly beneath mine as he barked out a laugh.

"_You_ were learning needlepoint?"

"That was the idea, I believe. The blasted thing pricked me more times than the fabric."

"I just cannot see you like that. Sitting in a comfortable chair like someone's doll doing tasks like that. I can't see you as someone's typical wife." He shook his head slightly before inclining it to the side to rest against mine.

We fell into a quiet silence for a while, watching the fire.

"You know, I could see myself as _your_ wife," I whispered softly, afraid of his reaction. This was never something we openly discussed before, but given that I had fled my home and surrendered my family's title, I had little to lose, and only one thing I wanted: to be with Charles.

I felt the even rise and fall of his breath freeze suddenly. I held my breath as well, waiting to hear his reaction. Surprise? Anger? After everything, would he not want me? My heart pounded so loudly in my chest, I was nearly certain that he could hear it. Both of our bodies were still, my head still resting against him.

Very slowly, Charles leaned away from me. Gently, he straightened me upright so that I would not tumble over. I watched him carefully, but his face was blank as he continued to watch the fire.

I felt like I would break. All of my daydreams about Charles, my wants, my fantasies about being with him, even my romantic adventure of running off into the night to be with him were about to come shattering down around me.

I felt my arms grow cold while my cheeks grew hot with embarrassment. The back of my neck started to prickle slightly. I rubbed my arms and quickly stood up. One of the two blankets around me slid off, but I hung on to one of them, letting it drape around my arms. I covered the ground between the fire and the doorway in little time, but just before I was about to slip out, I heard him.

"You… would be my wife?"

I paused, leaving my back to him. I was ashamed that I did not have the courage to look at him. We had always been friends. Perhaps it had been in my mind alone that we had become more than friends. Some girlish fantasy. Perhaps Mother had been right; marriage was not for love.

"I would," I answered honestly, baring my entire heart to him. Even if he were interested in another, even if I had only been, at best, like a sister to him the entire time, Charles was not the sort that would crush me. He would be kind about it, but the rejection in and of itself would be devastating.

Where would I go? I could go back to Mother, I supposed. Physically. It would destroy me mentally to have such a love of freedom coupled with a taste of the wilderness and have to return. What would Nana think? And Mother. I could not live with a woman who hated me for no fault of my own. I had planned on living with Charles, thoughtlessly assuming my wants would mirror his.

"Victoria," Charles' voice floated in a husky whisper from across the room. "Are you telling me that you left your family, your fortune, and your comfortable life? And you would have me in its place?"

I slowly turned to look at him, a knot of dread tightening in my stomach. His face, however, was surprisingly blank.

"Yes, I would. I would trade everything for you, Charles."

His face was like a beacon of light. A moment after I spoke, I supposed my words finally clicked in his mind, as his eyes widened, his grin split across his face and he leaped to his feet all at once. In three long strides, he had covered the ground between us and had taken my hands in his.

"Then I promise you, Victoria, I will make you the happiest wife alive, for you have just made me the happiest man alive." Before I could process what he was saying, he brought both of my hands to his lips and kissed each of them.

Realizing what he meant, my hands slipped free from his before wrapping around his body, pulling myself closer. His own arms came around my waist, resting on my back. I felt his lips at my temple, and I glanced up.

His dark eyes were damp with tears.

"Really?" He whispered hoarsely. "Really, you would have me?"

I could only nod, reaching up to touch his cheek.

"Yes, really."

His only response was to lean down and kiss me. Not on the cheek as he had always done before out of politeness, but a full lip embrace.

It was like fire rocked down through my body and my heart hammered in my chest, very much alive. A flush cascaded across my cheeks, and once he pulled away, I felt as though my insides had turned to ashes.

He reached with his hand and cupped the side of my face, his thumb brushing over my cheek.

"I love you, Victoria. I really, really do. I was entranced by this girl – this flame – who had such a blatant disregard for the rules that her status confined her to. I was afraid of you, too. Afraid of such an anomaly in society. As if perhaps you were not real. You were too beautiful, too wild to be that which your name claimed, and yet you were too innocent to understand the difference.

"Eventually, though, through the years, you changed. You grew up. You were no longer that innocent child who didn't realize what she did, you were a grown woman who did understand the consequences of her actions, and still knowingly broke her rules because she chose to do what she wanted. Very, very quickly, I fell in love with that wild spirit. She did not seem to care that we were not 

equals in society; we were merely two human beings existing together. It was the most beautiful thing in the world," he finished softly, smiling tenderly.

I could only stare up into his eyes. _I was getting married._ Wouldn't Mother be proud? _To Charles._ A grin split across my face and I ducked my head down, burying my face into his shoulder. I felt one of his hands on my back, and the other brushing across the top of my wild hair.

"I will build you a good home, you can have all the things you like," he was promising. I was too lost in my own daydream to hear him at first, but as soon as I realized that he was trying to quiet a nonexistent fear of poverty in me, I reached up and put my finger to his lips.

"Charles."

He looked at me, and I smiled kindly once I had his attention.

"I do not care if I sleep on a pallet of straw, so long as you are laying next to me on it. Understand?"

His eyes softened again, and all I could see was love in their depths.

"I think we can do better than straw," he murmured as he kissed my forehead. I giggled against him, utterly at peace to simply be so close to him.

A soft cough sounded from the door, and Charles and I both slowly turned to look. Meredith, Charles' mother, was standing there, looking a little ashamed to catch us in an embrace. I waited for Charles to step back, but he did not. He showed no signs of embarrassment, rather, he pulled me closer. I permitted this, unsure how to react myself. My training indicated that my reputation was at stake, I should flush and blush and stammer, but that was not the woman I wanted to be, only the woman I had been trained to become. So I smiled, and just curled closer into his chest, my arms tightening around his torso.

_Married._

I was going to marry Charles. My childhood sweetheart. Against all social odds, I had found the strength to do what I wanted. I laughed softly at the thought, and Charles touched my hair again.

"Mother, we are going to get married," Charles said softly over the top of my head. Warily, I turned in his arms to look at Meredith to see her reaction.

Her hand was placed over her mouth as she stared at the two of us. Her light blue eyes were wide with surprised, her lips parted slightly. I could not tell if she was upset or just surprised by the news. When the silence dragged on, however, I began to grow worried.

"Oh," she breathed after a moment. Then, the light returned to her eyes and she smiled. "That's wonderful! I'm just… concerned."

Charles' arms fell to his side and he stepped away from me to approach his mother.

"But I love her," he said. "And she'll have me, which is the most beautiful thing in this world. We can have a family together, mother. Victoria and I." He looked over his shoulder at me and smiled. "I could not ask for more."

"Well, no, dear," Meredith was saying, struggling for the right words. "I do not doubt that you two would be very happy together, and do not misunderstand – I would love Victoria as a daughter-in-law, but what of the public?"

I stilled as the harsh reality of our decision set in. Charles and I had been so wrapped up in our fantasy world of existing together that we had both temporarily forgotten about the real world around us. I could see the surprise on his face, as well. Sensing our confusion, Meredith continued.

"Do you not think that Miss Victoria-"

"Victoria," Charles and I corrected at the same time. We looked to each other and couldn't help but smile at the correction.

"Victoria, then," Meredith conceded, "Do you not think that they will talk? Do you not think her mother will allow this to happen? The moment that word gets out that the heiress to Hillcrest has forsaken her chosen husband to marry a commoner…" Meredith trailed off, and Charles and I exchanged devastated looks.

"So we cannot… marry then? Because of what my mother might do?"

"As much as you may dislike the idea, my dear, your mother has a great deal of influence in the public," Meredith said slowly, lowering her eyes. She raised her eyes to mine once more, smiled bravely, and then turned to Charles. "Charles, dear. You came of age two years ago. Yet you chose to stay with us. You know, the moment you wish to leave, you may."

"What are you suggesting, Mother? That Victoria and I elope?"

Meredith inclined her head, a mischievous look on her face. Charles gasped.

"You _do_ mean it!"

"Do not mistake me, Charles. I am not throwing you out. But I believe that, perhaps, given the… potentially scandalous situation you are in, a fresh start might be easiest for you both."

"Where would we go?" I looked to Charles, a little scared for the first time. He glanced to me, then back to his mother.

"We would have to go somewhere other than here. London, perhaps? Would you like to go to London, Victoria?"

"Would that be far enough away? I think the man that Mother wanted me to marry was from near there," I said, worried. Would London; a day's carriage ride away, truly be far enough? Would anywhere be far enough away for Charles and I to just live together happily? Was it just a hopeless cause?

Charles seemed equally concerned, and Meredith did nothing but lean against the doorway, quietly. I had the sneaking suspicion that Meredith already had an idea of an alternative plan, and it almost seemed - by the look on her face - that she was waiting for us to arrive on the conclusion on our own.

Catching my eye, she winked in my direction before looking back to her son.

"What if we left? Completely?"

I looked away from Meredith to regard my husband-to-be. I stared at him for a moment, unable to quite catch what he was trying to say.

"What do you mean?"

Charles paused, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Meredith smile slightly. She understood that Charles had found the answer.

"Victoria, how do you feel about America?"

I startled. America? When Charles had said leave completely, he truly had meant for us to abandon all our roots here and move across the ocean.

"But your family," I protested, looking to Meredith. The older woman just shook her head kindly, and waved her hand as if it meant nothing.

"Charles has always wanted to see America. I somehow knew that someday he would end up leaving England to visit there, and it seems to be the perfect solution to your dilemma, do you disagree?"

I looked between the two of them, and Charles smiled to his mother, and then to me.

"What do you say, Victoria? America?"

I studied him for a moment, and then smiled.

"America," I repeated in comfirmation.

"I asked around while you two were resting," Meredith said softly. "A ship leaves tomorrow night."

"This is so sudden," I whispered. In all honesty, I was frightened.

"We have a day, Victoria," Charles whispered, wrapping his arms around me again. Standing beside him, I was frightened. Wrapped in his arms, however, I felt safe. The idea of eloping to America with only a day's notice did not seem so intimidating when he held me.

We stood together for many minutes – I lost count after about five. He held me tightly, protectively to his chest, his fingers brushing over my hair.

"It will be hard work, Little Flame," he murmured into my ear. I felt my skin blush at the birthing of a new nickname. "We will not have much to start with, we will have to build a house ourselves, perhaps raise a farm… are you sure that is the sort of life you want?"

I peeked up at him from his arms.

"Will you be in it?" I whispered softly.

"Of course."

"Then yes, it is," I affirmed before curling back into his embrace. I felt his warm lips brush over my forehead in response.

"You are right, though. It is sudden. We have a lot to do tomorrow before we leave. Let us go to bed now. I'll show you to your room," he said, stepping away from me and taking my hand, leading me to the back of the house. He led me into a room with a single bed, simple furniture and a coat hanger. On the hanger, rested his coat.

"But this is your room, is it not?" I protested, turning to face him. He shrugged in response.

"I'm sleeping in the sitting room," he explained, and I shook my head in response.

"That does not seem right," I said.

"Please, Victoria, it would not be right for you to have to sleep in there, and it simply would not be proper to share the bed."

I had broken every rule tonight, except one. The feeling of unbound freedom twitched inside of me, and with renewed courage, I took his hand and pulled him into the room.

"Would it not? We will be married soon," I insisted.

I watched his eyes widen in surprise, and then soften with desire. I waited quietly while the gentleman warred with himself. Of course it was not proper, in any sense, but at what point did it no longer matter?

We had abandoned one society, so why were we still bound to the laws of it? As long as we were true to the laws that governed ourselves, was there really such harm?

"But if someone finds out, you'll be ruined," he exclaimed, worried.

"You are worried for my reputation when in twenty four hours, my reputation, clean or not here, will be completely wiped of any indiscretion."

That reasoning seemed to win, and the man inside of Charles won over the gentleman. His eyes no longer harbored any worry, they only harbored want.

I felt my insides melt at the look in his eyes; I would have Charles. Tonight. And tomorrow was the beginning of having everything.

Reaching behind him, Charles pulled the door closed and fixed his eyes on me. Instantly, the temperature in the room inflamed.

Without missing a beat, he reached forward and pulled me into his arms, my body melting against his easily. His lips found mine, no longer with the gentleness of friendship, but with the fervor of a lover.

My arms wound around him, pulling him closer yet, as if trying to merge our bodies into one. His kiss deepened, as did the passion, and with one, smooth maneuver, he lifted me up into his arms and carried me to the bed.

* * *

**We'll be getting to the Twilight aspect of her story soon. Very soon. Thank you for your support, I'm so excited people like this story.  
**


	6. America

Chapter Six

America

_America; October 1872_

I was not entirely certain what I had been expecting when the ship finally docked at Boston. I could tell when we neared the port – after seeing an endless expanse of ocean in every direction day after day, there was a restless stir among the passengers when we began to near America.

Charles and I had slept in close quarters the entire ride, sunrise and sunset, moonrise and moonset, star rise, star fall. I did not mind the closeness of our temporary living conditions – I was slightly uncomfortable with having to share it with fourteen other people. The ship was divided, and within each room, sixteen cots existed. It was not unpleasant, but it was not a preferential way of life indefinitely. A family of three had two cots between them; their child was expected to sleep with one of the parents, but being a youth of fourteen, there was simply no way he could fit comfortably.

Conversely, Charles and I did not mind being so close on a cot, and we had agreed to grant them one of ours. I doubted the son wished to be so closely curled next to his mother, and the lad seemed eternally grateful for our 'sacrifice.'

The entire capacitance of the ship was crammed on top of the deck in the brilliant sunlight – each of us so desperately wanted to see the port for ourselves, to be assured that we had, in fact, arrived.

In the fifty-two days we had spent aboard the vessel – Charles had counted and told me later – he had changed. From a well-groomed gentleman with a hard body from the manual labor he had to do, he had changed into something not entirely unlike myself.

Though he had never been a gentleman in title, Charles had always been one in nature. Despite his rugged work, he had always been well-groomed and refined in his tastes. I had been the wild one – no regard for society's rules, needs, wants or social constraints. I had not cared. If I had my way, I would have burned every corset in England and never worn my hair up again.

Though he may not have ever cared for the rules, Charles had always taken care to follow them; until we decided to run away together, and then they no longer mattered. I was his and he was mine, no other law governed our universe.

His blondish hair was no longer carefully groomed. It was a little bit longer than he liked, and he had taken up the habit of tying it back behind his head. His once smooth face was now prickled with facial hair.

His muscles were always firm, but his face had been soft. Now, his cheekbones stood out in sharp relief. His eyes were the same kind, loving eyes I had always known, but Charles had grown into a strong, hardened man, and I admired that.

According to Charles, I, too, had changed. I would argue that I did not change; I was simply allowed to fully assume the form I wished to be. The night Charles and I had spent together, when he had removed my corset, I had discarded it. The next morning, I took care not to pack the thing.

I had always been trim. Soft, perhaps, from want of labor, but not particularly plump. The softness had waned into leanness and muscles had appeared on my arms. My portion sizes had never been rationed before, but it had not been as difficult to adjust to as one might have considered.

Coming from a family of status, I was surprised at how easily I fell into a more common way of life. I loved the feeling of strength that came with it.

Out of sheer boredom, I had taken up the act of helping with some of the lesser labor that needed to be done on the ship. My newly toned and strengthened body had taken on a new, tanned look from the hours I spent on the deck in the sunlight. Some of the other England ladies were 

scandalized that I would help the crew move things around, but I simply could not just stand on the deck with a ridiculous coif and large brimmed hat, fanning myself and gossiping.

I had to _do_ something.

Charles had been worried that I would hurt myself, and when I grew thin he was afraid that I was not fed well enough, but eventually he realized that I was in perfect health – perhaps better than I had ever been in England.

We had both discovered a liking of the deck – in the bright, noontime sun, the England ladies would venture below to shade their alabaster skin. Charles and I, by contrast, enjoyed spending nearly all of our time on the deck. If we weren't helping – for he, too, could not stand still, especially if I had something to do – we were standing together letting the sun warm and tan our bodies as we watched the gentle movement of the waves rock the boat back and forth.

One night, we had been sitting on the cot together and Charles had been rubbing my hands. Large calluses had built up as I moved from handling light things to actually pulling at some of the ropes on the ship.

We both certainly looked a little worse for wear – I had brought only one gown with me to Charles', but his mother had given me a second one to take with me. Both were now worn, ragged, torn in some places, and rather dirty. Charles' clothes were in similar condition, but I was sure the smiles on our faces at the first sight of the port more than made up for our ragged appearance.

I glanced behind us: endless sea stretched. Somewhere, far away, my mother was perhaps furious, distraught at the turn of events, and perhaps, in a strange twist, she missed me. I tried not to dwell on that fact because I knew there was no returning.

I would do what _I _wanted now. And I wanted a new life with Charles.

I turned to look at him as he squeezed my hand. We had been below deck to cool off when the first rustle of activity occurred on the deck. Instantly, we had moved back up to see.

I stood with my hands resting against the top of the side of the ship; Charles' right hand was resting on top of one of mine. My head rested on his shoulder and his left hand wrapped around my waist as I stood at his left side.

Strangely, when the ship docked, there was a large commotion. Most of the passengers – the weary prim and proper ladies of England mostly – were eager to disembark the ship. I watched them as they came out of the hold in brand-new dresses: they had brought an arrival dress that they had stored until they were ready to leave. Large hats shaded their eyes from the sun as they bustled off the deck. I did not doubt that they were either visiting family or looking around. Either way, in a month or so, they would be heading back to London. I doubted life here would suit their delicate souls for very long.

After the initial, impatient rush had subsided, Charles took my hand and led me into the calmer, more patient crowd of remaining passengers. In a timely, orderly manner, we disembarked.

Still guiding me, we weaved in and out of the crowds of people, looking for a place to gather our wits. All I had with me was a single bag – it was not even a suitcase. I carried one change of clothes, some hygiene products like a bar of soap, and my smaller bag of possessions.

I was not entirely sure what had prompted me to bring my jewelry. Perhaps habit – whenever I travelled, it was expected I would take my finer pieces with me. Perhaps it had been unconscious foresight: I never had any intention of wearing the gaudy pieces, but here, the jewels could be bartered for pay. Whatever the reason, I was grateful for the action.

Charles guided me by the elbow now, to keep me close, and we came to stop in the shade of a building. The docks were crowded, people meeting family members and friends, people trying to get onto ships and people just trying to get off of them.

The first sensation of panic set in when I saw a mother, daughter and husband walk together down the street, her clean dress barely touching the ground, her perfect hat shading her fair face. The 

true magnitude of our elopement settled in. We were in America. We had no home. No money, and no place to go.

My heart accelerated, and as if he knew my panic – perhaps we were so in tune that he did feel it as it rose – Charles wrapped his arms around me, calmly my anxiety.

"What do we do now," I mumbled into his shoulder, unable to keep my body from curling into his strong, protective embrace.

"Let's get out of the way," he suggested. Arm in arm, we walked down the street, our small bags being the only possessions we brought with us into this new life. The buildings of Boston loomed up overhead, carriages whizzing by us, store fronts glared out as people yelled and children cried.

"You know," I leaned in close to speak softly to Charles. "This isn't entirely unlike London. I'd hate to think we went so far just to end up in another London."

Charles chuckled at my response.

"Perhaps the countryside is more to your liking, then?"

I just smiled at the thought of a small little country house, perhaps with some farming. We continued to walk through the throngs of people, looking around, taking in all the sights of Boston.

At one point, Charles stepped into a side store to ask where we were and where we could go. As luck would have it, there was a small countryside community not too far out of Boston. Charles had relayed the information to me. We continued on foot through Boston and into the outskirts of the town, making our way toward the dotting of houses.

Once outside Boston, we could see the small grouping of a town in the distance. The road was a long walk, but it was not unbearable. The town was far enough away from Boston that it could harbor small town life, but at the same time, within an hour – perhaps a bit more - we could make the walk into town it necessary.

We both exhaled in unison, and turned to look at each other smiling. It would be nearly impossible to begin a life with next to nothing in Boston. Home prices were too high; we would have to both find work for a bit to buy a home, if anyone would even hire a woman. Country housing had a larger appeal – if nothing else, the countryfolk would be more generous than cityfolk, and might not care at all if a woman worked. They might even help us begin our life, if they were kindly enough.

Charles glanced over to me and smiled. I sighed, taking a deep breath. He leaned over and kissed my temple.

"I love you, my little flame, my wife," he whispered.

On the ship, we had sat on the deck in the starlight during the nights and talked quietly. The deck had always been nearly deserted then, except for the occasional deckhand. It provided us with an adequate blanket of privacy to plan our scandal in detail.

We realized quickly in our haste that on the boat, we had to pretend to be married already. That led to the realization that my reputation would be ruined before we could even start a life there if we arrived and then married.

As much as I wanted my wedding, it simply was not in our best interest. It would be easier if we arrived already married. As far as unification in the eyes of God, we both believed that loving each other unconditionally was binding enough. Neither of us feared Hell for not having an official church seal.

While sitting under a full moon, Charles had reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver band. Though there had been no diamonds or jewels, the intricate engravings on the band were much more beautiful.

He proposed to me that night, and our kiss beneath the moonlight sealed our unofficial marriage.

The band had fit my fourth finger perfectly, and had not been removed since. Even now, as we walked into the country, the sunlight bounced off of the engravings, tossing light everywhere. His hand 

laced mine as the cooler country air billowed around us: beautiful, clean country air, not at all the dirty, musty smell of Boston.

I inhaled deeply, drawing the freshness into my lungs. Trees shaded the dirt road, and we continued to walk hand-in-hand toward the small houses.

In a way, it was not the same as England. Though I had lived in a country home with Winifred, the countryscape that had encompassed the surroundings was not the same. I had thought that the forest I had run into had been wild. I had though the stream where Charles and I had played as young children had been the wilderness.

Nothing was as untamed as the American landscape. Perhaps it was the idea that it truly was not tamed. People – like Charles and I – travelled from England to this country because it was wild. It was a fresh start which is precisely what we wanted.

We came to a stop outside the town nearly an hour later, hot, tired, and more than weary. As we paused beneath the shade of a large tree, a woman looked up from where she was tending a garden for a house nearby. Gathering her dress in her hands, she rose to her feet and approached us.

"Well, hey there now, aren't you two lookin' a little lost?"

Charles and I both turned to face her. He approached her yard but paused outside, taking care not to step in. I stayed leaning against a tree in the shade. As excited as I had been about finding a home and staking a claim in the new world, I was feeling a little dizzy from the heat.

"Yes, miss, we just arrived," Charles said. "We haven't much, but we were looking to start a life here."

"Aw, well now, isn't that sweet? You might just be in luck. The Meriwethers are desperate to return to London, but haven't anyone to sell their home to. Without any kind of a sale, they cannot afford the fare," she said.

Charles and I exchanged looks, and I carefully peeled myself off of the tree and approached Charles' side. The smile slipped off the woman's face.

"Oh Lord, you poor thing! Won't you both come inside? I haven't anything for you, sir, I'm sorry, but for the lady I can give you a clean dress. Come in, clean up a bit and I shall pour some tea. Goodness, you really _did_ just arrive, did you not?" Chuckling, she turned her back to us and walked toward her house.

Charles looked at me and his expression was priceless. He looked confused and completely floored. Neither of us had expected that from the kindly woman when we had simply inquired as to the state of affairs.

We exchanged mutual glances of surprise, and followed the woman inside.

"Wow, from London! How lovely," Eloisa Duncan exclaimed. Eloisa, the kindly woman with the cropped blonde hair that had let us inside her home was sitting across from Charles and I at a rustic, homey kitchen table. Charles and I had both bathed, and though he had shaved, he had decided to allow his hair to continue to grow long, rather than trimming it back.

I was fitted into a clean, cotton dress. Simple, of course, but it was clean. My hair had been washed, finally. Though it still insisted on the wild and crazy curls, it was clean, and braided back behind my head now loosely.

Charles ran a hand through his clean hair, and I could tell he enjoyed the feel of the lack of sea salt, too. I sipped from the cup of tea Eloisa had placed before each of us, enjoying the taste of something fresh and hydrating.

"My wife and I," Charles said after a moment, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand. "Were hoping perhaps you could point us in the direction of the Meriwethers? And is there anything we can do to repay you for your kind service to us this afternoon?"

"Oh, no, dear, it really was nothing. But your wife is absolutely charming, please promise me that if you are able to move into the Meriwether's, she will come over for tea once in a while," Eloisa said with a smile.

"My wife," Charles said softly, turning to look at me. "Will come if she wants to. I do not regulate her," he finished with a smile.

"Fascinating!" Eloisa seemed absolutely enchanted by the idea of a wife with her own will. "Then, dear, will you come see me if you settle in the area?" Her attention suddenly focused on me, and I smiled brightly.

"Of course," I said. I felt like the weight of a lot had been lifted off of me. Clean body, clean hair, clean clothes, to satisfy the physical, and the idea that perhaps our first roots had been put down. If nothing else, we had both found a new acquaintance.

"Excellent," Eloisa said smartly. "Shall I take you to the Meriwethers' now? I can make the introductions. I have known them for years."

Charles and I exchanged looks, then smiled and nodded.

Together, the three of us stood up. My heart fluttered – what if it did not work? Charles and I still needed to find a home if it did not. Nervous at the possibility of failure when options were limited to begin with, Charles and I walked out hand in hand, Eloisa walking at my other side.


	7. Snow

Chapter Seven

November

Snow

Charles and I had settled into our new life easily enough. The Meriwethers had been more than happy to trade their home and its furniture for my gold ring and pearl earrings. That had left Charles and I with a bit of silver left, I had a solid clasp silver bracelet that I was able to exchange for a good deal of money at a jeweler's in Boston. With the money, we had been able to feed ourselves until Charles had taken up a job at a printers'. He had worked there for the last eight weeks.

The only jewels I had left – and cared to have – were St. Julian's pendant and Charles' ring. Though I did not work myself – Charles had a talent in the company, and was quickly promoted and generated enough income for us to live comfortably – I did not take up the same tasks as the other women in the community.

They held weekend knitting circles, practiced their needlepoint together. Instead of sitting for hours indoors doing something that pricked my fingers more than fabric, I had taken up the habit of tree-climbing.

I did do the daily housework, not because it held the appearance of normalcy because every other woman did it, I did it because it was convenient. Charles worked during the day, so while he was away, I kept things tidy. I made sure I had at least an hour to myself each day to sit outside and read.

With his first month of earnings, Charles had purchased a membership to a library in Boston. Every few days, Charles would bring me a new book to read and return the old one. If I was not reading, I was working with a garden outside our home.

On the weekends, Eloisa and I would get together over tea and biscuits and chat. It was the most feminine thing I had ever done, and likely ever would do. Initially, Eloisa and the other women I had acquainted myself with had been scandalized when they realized I was literate and spent a good deal of time reading. Everyone but Eloisa had actually ostracized me initially, but after our first week, they encompassed me back into their social circles.

Perhaps it was because I cared little for social propriety and rules that governed gender roles that I became immune to the consequences of my 'ignorance'. If I did not care what everyone thought, they had no power. Therefore, I was not just an aberration, but a symbol of feminine strength. At least, that was how I reasoned my peculiar rejections and acceptations, for either way I cared little. Eloisa, though, had grown into a woman I could trust and a friend I could rely on.

Our home was cozy, but rather comfortable. When Charles and I had planned to run away together, we had envisioned a life of servitude initially. We had not hoped we could be able to have our own home right away, with so little to offer. The gods had been kind to us and offered us a beautiful home, tailored neatly to our wants. It was as if Fate had conspired for everything to align so neatly: The Meriwethers were looking to move to London, and we had just sailed from England. It had been the perfect arrangement.

The home was one story with two bedrooms, a bath chamber, a spacious cooking area and a separate sitting area. I was sitting in the sitting area penning a letter to London when I heard the front door close. I smiled as I addressed the envelope to my mother and sealed the back.

"Hey," Charles said softly from the doorway. Setting the wax down, I turned and stood up and walked to him. "Have you been in here all day, Little Flame?"

"Yes," I replied as his arms moved around my body. My arms found their way around his torso, and I pressed my forehead into his shoulder. I felt his chest vibrate with his usual low chuckle. "Why?" I asked curiously.

"Come see."

Mysteriously, he stepped away from me and backed into the living area. Overcome with unadulterated inquisition, I left the drawing room to follow.

"See?" He paused in front of the windows and gestured as if I could somehow miss it. He stood by the window, watching for my reaction. I could not prevent the grin that split my face.

"Oh Charles! Come, let us go play!"

"Play?" His charming smile slipped with his confusion.

"Yes, I want to go outside. Let me fetch my shoes," I explained. I darted into the bedroom that Charles and I shared. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I shoved one of my stocking'ed feet into one boot and laced it up before doing the second. Grabbing a long coat and thrusting my arms through the sleeves as I did so, I left the room.

"Victoria?"

I halted and turned to look at Charles.

"Yes?"

"What are you doing, exactly?" He seemed so confused and all I could do was smile at him warmly.

"Playing," I explained before moving to the door and opening it. I could not help the smile that spread across my face. Earlier this morning, I had been out. There had been nothing but bitter cold. Now, a blanket of silver lay at my feet.

I paused a moment and waited, absorbing the entirety of the surreal beauty around me. Silver snow glossed every tree branch, every shrub and every inch of the ground. Cotton-like flakes continued to float down from the sky. I watched as one drifted earthward toward me, stopping only in its flight path as it landed on my nose.

It was surreal feeling – as if time were slowing down around me. I turned to look to my right, and it was as if my vision lagged behind. Once my eyes focused on the road, I could see everyone. The few people who were out hurried around. They held things over their heads to keep their hair and hats dry. Long dressed flowed around them as they walked, and a carriage rattled on by.

To my left, as I turned my head and time slowed around me, I saw the free falling snow. A gentle wind picked up, swirling the silver into the air and making the air sparkle as it rained down on me.

A fire twisted inside of me and without warning I leaped from our front step and into our yard of unblemished snow. Instantly, I sank down into it as it came to caress my knees. Bending over, I scooped up an armful. With a blatant disregard for anyone who might be watching me or judging me, I spun in a fast circle, releasing the silvery flecks in a typhoon around me.

I laughed with the ecstasy of the release, but too soon I stumbled from my spin. Before I realized it, Charles' arms closed around me, pulling me to his chest. He could not, however, save me from gravity.

A wave of snow flew up into the air before raining back down on us as we fell into the snow together. I sat upright quickly, concerned that Charles had injured himself in the fall.

He, contrarily, continued to lie in the snow, staring up at me. After a moment, his surprised look shifted into one of amusement. Charles burst out into laughter, laying in the snow staring up at me.

Flecks of snow clung to his hair, his jacket and his nose. I watched enviously as a flake drifted down and landed on his flush red lips before melting. Perhaps wantonly so, I leaned down and kissed him fully on his lips in the wake of the snowflake.

Charles was surprised by the sudden movement, but he quickly wrapped his arms around me and pulled me down into the snow next to him.

Murmurs of surprise echoed around as Charles consumed me. I barely registered the shock of our voyeurs. Perhaps it was our fault because we chose to display it so publically, in our own yard. I did not care.

I reluctantly pulled away from Charles, but only enough for him to breathe. My hands still rested on his chest, my hair fell around us like a thick red curtain, snowflakes trapped in the treacherous curls. Our lips were but an inch apart, and I felt his breath on my face as he exhaled.

A strange sensation bubbled in my body, and before I could put a check on it, I started laughing. It was a soft laugh, and Charles chuckled beneath me in response. We sat like that for several minutes: Charles on his back in the snow, my body on top of his, my hands on his chest and our noses nearly touching.

"Your hands are like ice," Charles whispered in my ear, exciting a hot blush across my cheeks. I smiled wryly – not a spot on my skin felt cold at the moment. My chest rested against his, and I could feel his heartbeat as if it were the mechanism driving the blood through _my_ body. In many, non-physical ways, it was.

I leaned down and pecked his lips once before sitting back up and rolling off of him. Together, using each other for balance and support. My hands were both cupped between his, and as we stood together in the snow, we looked around. Where there had been untouched pristine snow, there were now tracks, scrapes and entire body imprints. I smiled sheepishly up at him.

Charles looked over my shoulder at a group of women who had gathered at our fence. They wore expressions of confusion, except for one. Eloisa looked strangely content, as if she already understood.

"It is her first snow," Charles explained. This seemed to satisfy two of the four women, and turning, they began to walk away. The third remaining one cocked her head to the side in disbelief.

"Are you tellin' me she didn't see snow in London? Betsy and Sue, there," she woman nodded to the retreating women, "have never left America. But I am fairly certain there was snow there."

"Jemma, have you not ever wanted to do something, but felt restricted?"

"Of course, and I restricted myself."

"But why?"

"Because it would shame my husband."

"There is nothing Victoria could ever do that would make me ashamed of her. I love her, and if something makes her happy, then that pleases me. She did no harm, she did not even soil her dress. The snow will melt off. Is it so wrong to be so free?"

I buried my face in Charles' jacket as tears sprang to the corners of my eyes. His words were so true of me, I really did not care. But they were so beautiful because he loved me for being me. Not for dressing up and going to a debutante ball and looking fetching and being able to waltz in perfect time. He loved me because if I wanted to play in the woods, I would play in the woods. He loved me because I ran away from home, and he loved me because I tripped and fell in the snow, taking him with me.

He loved me because I was Victoria.

I could not be more lucky in this life. God loved me for some reason – I had so much more than anyone could ever hope to have. I was able to 'marry' for love, not familial convenience, and he was the most amazing man in the world. Truly, the most beautiful soul I had ever seen.

The way he stood, and held me in his arms and defended my unladylike actions to our neighbors as if I were in the right – and perhaps, on a fundamental level, I was – and the way he spoke of all the reasons he loved me caused a strange feeling to stir.

It was a warm, bubbling sensation that started at my toes and filled my entire body. I felt weightless in his arms, and my heart swelled slightly.

I realized, in that moment, I loved Charles even more, and before that point, I had not thought it possible.

As Jemma walked away, leaving a smiling Eloisa alone on the fence, I turned and whispered to Charles.

"You know, if you keep doing things like that, I'm going to love you so much my heart will explode," I murmured.

"What?" Charles barely had time to ask before I stepped away, leaving his bewildered question in the air. I approached Eloisa, and she smiled warmly at my approach.

"How's the snow?" She inquired, as if it were normal for a woman to frolic around in the snow like a child.

"Cold," I replied honestly. "Beautiful," I added, glancing over my shoulder to watch Charles move back to the warmth of the house, pausing on the doorstep in an attempt to dust off the accumulated snow.

"That it is," Eloisa murmured softly, her eyes following mine to look at Charles.

"Do you have plans tomorrow evening?" I inquired, looking back to her.

"Just dinner, when Benjamin gets home," she murmured again.

"Well, would you and Benjamin like to join Charles and I for dinner tomorrow? I think that would be lovely, myself. Charles and Benjamin seem to get along quite well."

"That _would _be lovely, thank you. Would you like me to come over early and help with preparations?"

"Of course, if you like. But for the company, not the work. Come over about, perhaps four? Most of the preparation will be finished then and we can chat."

"And then Benjamin can come over when he finishes work-"

"And once Charles get home-"

"We can have dinner," Eloisa finished. I smiled at her; perhaps it was frightening how close we were. Finishing each other's sentences, practically reading each other's mind; it was not a surprise that Charles slipped inside when he did.

Eloisa touched the fence top lightly and smiled.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then."

"Goodbye, Eloisa," I murmured, turning away as she walked from our yard.

I stopped at the step and dusted off my shoulders and shook out my hair. After trying to kick some of the snow from my boots, I walked inside…

…and right into Charles' arms.

His arms closed around me tightly, and he pressed his lips to my forehead.

"You feel cold, Little Flame. I started a fire for us," he whispered. After releasing me, he led me into the sitting room where a small fireplace held a warm, crackling fire. Instantly, we both sat down on the floor in front of it, his arms never leaving where they were wrapped around me.

"I love you," I whispered to him softly. He smiled, and kissed my temple.

"I love you too, with all that I am, for forever," he murmured in my ear.

"Forever," I assented quietly.


	8. Red

**Thank you for continuing to read this story. I really love writing it, and I'm pleased that people seem to love reading it. This chapter is stylistically a little different, I just wanted to warn you that yes, that was intentional. Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter Eight

America, 1880.

Red

"I'm sorry, Victoria. I'm afraid the answer is no, again."

I felt my heart break with his words, as if my whole world had come crashing down around me. I swallowed heavily, trying to forbid the tears budding at the corners of my eyes not to fall. When Charles reached over and took my hand and squeezed it, though, all bets were off.

The fat drops rolled down my cheeks shamelessly, and I quickly reached up to wipe them away.

"I'm sorry," I whispered hoarsely.

"Shh, shh, it is alright, Little Flame. Perhaps this is best," Charles murmured, in his ever-soothing voice. His hand reached up and brushed across my cheek, catching another tear as it fell.

Dr. Lawson had quietly stood up and left the room, giving Charles and I our privacy. He was a good doctor, with his salt and peppered hair and brilliant blue eyes. His son, James, had just had his fourth birthday, and Lawson was as good a father as he was a doctor.

The tragic part was that Charles and I would never watch our son turn four. We could never celebrate as a daughter got married. Try as we might, I could not get pregnant, and we had been trying for the better half of the last eight years.

I was nearly twenty and four, now, and with each passing monthly course, I grew closer and closer to that line. There would come a point, where even if my body had been perfectly healthy now, I would never bare Charles a child.

We were running out of time.

I wanted nothing more than to bare Charles a strong, handsome son or a beautiful, fiery daughter. The fates however seemed to conspire against us.

"Victoria," Charles said softly, but with more sternness than before. Charles was rarely cross with me – exhausted, frustrated, perhaps, but rarely cross – and when his voice lost its normal soft inflection, I listened.

"Perhaps this is best. What I mean is, I would rather you be strong and beautiful and by my side until the good Lord calls me home. What if, while with child, you fell ill? Or died during the childbirth?"

A chill shot down my spine as memories of what Nana had told me about my own mother resurfaced after several years. My entire skin felt numb, even as Charles chaffed his hand over mine, trying to calm me.

"You remember Imogen, right? What if…? I simply cannot live without you, Victoria, but I can live without a child if it means you are safe and well beside me."

I nodded dumbly. I had told Charles everything our first night on the ship so many years ago. I had not been able to keep it inside and he had completely embraced the truth. In honesty, Charles had felt more pity for my bastardized situation than I had.

"Alright? Little Flame? Shall we go home, and lay this to rest?"

"I'm sorry," I whispered again miserably. I did not understand what was wrong with my body so that I could not bear children. Eloisa had had four children since I had met her! It seemed rather unfair, but haunting visions of myself laying on a bed, dressed in my nightshift, covered in blood and dying from childbirth chilled me. I was afraid; and for the first time, I was balking at the fear.

"Don't be sorry," he murmured again, standing up from the chair next to mine and taking my cheeks in his palms. "You are safe and whole and well, and that is the most important thing to me. Let us go home," he insisted again. Leaning down, he pressed his lips lightly against mine before straightening back up. This time, I stood up with him.

Arm in arm, we made our way out of the doctor's, nodding to Lawson on our way out. We turned down the road, making our way somberly back to our home, Charles trying to cheer me up the whole time.

I finally genuinely smiled at him when we got home. He opened the door, letting me inside first. I twirled inside, and Charles' arms caught me and pulled me close to him.

"Really. It's alright. I love you, Victoria," he murmured against my ear. I wrapped my arms around him, breathing in his scent and letting it fill my lungs. I smiled, feeling a little bit more secure about my decision. Perhaps, after all, everything would be fine.

* * *

A crash of thunder startled me awake. Sitting upright, I let the sheets fall away as I looked to our window. Sheets of rain pounded angrily against it, the pitch black outside yielding nothing unless a bolt of lightning crashed behind it. When the lightning struck, everything glowed silver for a moment.

In a brief bolt, the yard outside was illuminated. The tree, the grass, the fence were all as they should be, but a strange, dark shape was hunched over the fence. It looked like a human, but at the same token, it did not. In the brief glimpse I saw of it, it looked hunched over, perhaps even deformed.

I could only gasp softly, startling. My heart pounded in my chest and Charles sat up beside me.

"Victoria? What is it? The storm wake you up?" He murmured softly. He reached out to touch my hair affectionately, but paused. "No, something else. What has you so frightened, Little Flame?"

I pointed to the window, but it was dark outside again.

"I saw… something," I whispered. "Like a hunched man." Charles gave me a very perplexing look.

"Truly?" He inquired.

I simply turned my attention back to the window, waiting for another bolt of lightning. Darkness wrapped around us as we waited, accelerating my heartbeat even more.

"I swear it," I whispered. "Perhaps it was not a man, but I saw the shape of something that frightened me," I conceded. Perhaps it was a bag that had blown over from the nearby yard – the storm was treacherous tonight. Perhaps I had imagined that it resembled a person.

In answer to my question, another silver bolt of lightning lit up the area. The form I had seen by the tree was gone. Just the tree remained in silhouette.

Charles rubbed my shoulder affectionately.

"Nothing's there, now. Would you like me to go take a look to be certain?"

"No, no I am sure I saw… nothing," I murmured, unconvinced.

Charles gave me a warm look and squeezed my hand.

"If it will help my little flame sleep easier tonight, I will gladly go and look."

"No, no I think everything is alright. I-" I did not get the chance to finish the sentence – a loud crash sounded from the kitchen. The sound of metal rattling on the ground echoed through the house, and before I could stop him, Charles jumped up and ran to the door.

"Charles!" I called after him as I watched him grab his shotgun and make sure it was loaded. As he reached for the door, it blew open from the other side.

I sprang up from the bed, letting the sheets fall around me. In the darkness of the doorway, nothing moved. Neither did we. Holding our breaths, we waited, Charles held the cocked gun pointed at the doorway, his finger over the trigger.

Everything that happened next was so fast I could only process it after the fact. A snarl erupted from the dark hallway, and the next thing was that there was a hole in one of our walls, and Charles was gone.

Even before my body had unfrozen, a blood-curling scream filled the night.

"Victoria! Run the hell away while you can!"

The room turned to ice and time slowed down. The strangest things caught my attention.

.

I was weightless.

.

Snow blew in the hole in the wall, dusting over our bedroom.

.

I did not feel cold.

.

Suddenly, I was in front of the hole, looking outside. I did not remember walking that distance, but I must have.

.

Pain laced through my leg, and I looked down. In my walk, I had walked through a broken vase. Bloody footprints followed me to the entrance.

.

I lifted up one foot and watched the blood move to my toe before pooling into a drop and dropping to the floor.

.

_Outside was white._

.

_And red._

.

Shotgun. Laying in the snow.

.

"Run," a hoarse whisper sounded.

.

Slowly, it moved. Standing up.

.

Charles' eyes stared at me weakly, begging me to run.

.

"I love you, Little Flame. I'm sorry."

.

_Red. Everywhere._

.

And then it looked at me, with fire ember eyes.

.

It was tall. It looked like a human, anyway. Red ran down its face from its mouth.

.

_It crouched._

.

A crack sounded within my body, bone-shattering pain flexed throughout my spine as it made contact with my pelvis.

I was on the bed again, after being airborn back into the room. The bedframe shattered beneath me, and the white sheets were stained red.

I barely registered that the thing was on top of me.

"Charles!" I screamed loudly. If only he was still alive… if he could just hang on, we could make it still.

"Charles, I love you!"

The thing snarled before lunging over me.

.

_Red. Everywhere._

.

Its mouth was at my stomach, ripping flesh out, I noticed with mild interest.

_.  
_

_Red. Everywhere._

.

More now, than before.

My heartbeat felt weak. Fading.

.

_Was I dying?_

.

The weight on my body lifted up.

I could barely open my eyes, but I could see it was gone.

Where? I did not know. I did not care.

I rolled over and tried to stagger off the bed. My vision was red.

I stopped in front of the mirror. My stomach was torn open, I could see some of my insides. One of my arms hung at an odd angle, coated in blood. One of my eyes was covered. How my back was not broken, I did not understand, but the ache in my rib cage reminded me I was not unscathed.

I staggered outside.

The snow around me turned black as my vision faded.

Then the snow came back. I focused on Charles. He wasn't moving.

"Charles?"

"Over here! There may be survivors!"

.

I looked up. In the distance, lights were coming. Help was coming.

.

"Save Charles!"

I moved away from where they could see me, and I watched as they drew closer.

I wanted to cry out to them, but I realized that my screams had been silent. My throat was bloody, and likely my vocal cords were torn.

They would save him.

.

_Ba-bum._

.

I touched my stomach. My own heart was fluttering in my chest breathlessly, but there was a strange new pulse, coming from my stomach.

.

_Ba-bum._

.

I was suddenly acutely aware of a burning sensation.

.

Turning, my vision blacked out again. Senselessly, I moved away from the mob and into the nearby wooded area.

.

"Save Charles," I cried silently, wishing I could scream. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I stumbled and staggered.

I collapsed by a stream and leaned over the edge to peer into the water. Blood was still rushing out of my throat, and I could see that it was slashed. Why the blood was stopping, I did not understand. Maybe I was running out of blood.

.

Maybe we wouldn't make it after all.

"Fire!" I screamed.

Again, no sound left my lips. I rolled away from the stream. The fire in my stomach filled me, first making its way to my heart and then out into my limbs. It was like my blood itself was in fire.

.

_Ba-bum._

.

_Something was inside me._

.

I screamed again, as hard as I could, but nothing in the night stirred.

My vision swam before fading to black.

This time, my vision did not return to me.

The only pulse inside of me was now just my heartbeat as it started to accelerate. My throat was no longer bleeding, but I could not utter anything yet.

.

Was I _healing?_

.

It was hard to tell while my body burned. I vomited blood twice, from the unbearable pain.

Eventually, it became too much to stand.

My body took preemptive measures and started to shut itself down.

.

I could not tolerate the pain. My vision gone, my sense of touch went next. I could no longer feel the ground beneath me, though it seemed cruel that I could still feel the fire.

Perception forsook me next, I had no idea where I was or what was happening. Smell vanished, though all I could smell before had been blood.

Taste vanished, which I found pleasant for once. I did not like the rusty taste in my mouth.

And lastly, my ears closed off. I could no longer hear anything on the outside. The only thing I could feel was inside my body.

.

The fire, and my heart.

Again, another useless, silent scream ripped from my lips.

.

.

.

And then, my body surrendered completely. My consciousness went black.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

_Ba-bum._


	9. First Light

Chapter Nine

_?? ??_

First Light

There was a moment when the world exhaled around me. It breathed beneath my body, and I became aware again. The first thing I felt was cool. My right arm was cooler than the rest of my body.

Splashing sounds.

As my centers of perception came back to me, they tumbled over each other and crossed paths. Sometimes I felt like I smelled something, I heard or tasted something I felt - it was not quite normal.

Slowly, very slowly, I opened my eyes. The light overhead was absolutely blinding, and I could make nothing out in the whiteness that flooded my vision. Closing my eyes again, I raised my left hand to shield my eyes. Then, once more, I cautiously opened my eyes. First, a peek beneath a squint. Then slowly, my eyes opened completely.

I blinked several times, unsure what I was seeing.

"Did I die?" I whispered.

My own voice frightened me, for several reasons. One, it came out perfectly, as if my throat had never been mangled. Two, the voice was my own, but at the same time, it was not. It was smooth, and soft with a higher pitch to it. It was beautiful.

The surprise from my strange voice startled me so much that I sat upright quickly – and realized my right arm had been draped into the ice water. I lifted the wet appendage so that it was in front of my face, and I truly looked at my hand.

It was smooth, firm, toned. I brushed my other fingertips across it – it did not look the least bit injured at all. I sat there for I had no idea how long.

Now I could look around and study my surroundings more closely.

I was not sure what light had blinded me before – there was no bright light. A bright moon was overhead against the dark sky – was the moon truly enough to blind me at first?

Stars glittered down around me casting pinpricks of light everywhere. As I stared up at the sky, I vaguely noted that the stars seemed clearer than I could recall. They had never seemed so sharp, so defined. The brighter stars had four points of light extending from them. A glittering rainbow shimmered in their very cores.

I reached up to rub my eyes before looking back at the night sky. The whisper of the wind caught my attention. I glanced to my right – I could hear the wind rustling across the snow. I could hear the _flakes_ of snow as they were lifted up and tossed into the air. As I turned my head to the right to look at the flakes – which I saw with the same frightening perception that I saw the stars with their stark outlines and pulsating cores – I heard the noise my hair made against the wind as it flared out around behind me.

Slowly, I rose to my feet, growing more and more alarmed with how perfectly, utterly _clear_ everything was. The starlight was brighter than it should be – perhaps my eyes had grown more sensitive to the light. The leafless twigs from bushes stood out crisply against the snow. The snow on the ground was not a blanket as I was used to seeing – something smooth, continuous and uniform, no. It was a sea of tiny particles. I could see each snowflake sitting amongst the others. I could see the crushed ones beneath my footprints, and I could see the ones that had been tossed aside where I had collapsed.

I stared at the pattern my body had made in the snow. Some of the flakes were stained red from blood. The flakes were scattered all around, tossed violently, as if something had wrestled with me during my nap.

I turned away from the tossed snow, and looked around the woodsy clearing I had stumbled into. But… what had I stumbled away _from?_ My memories were scattered, perhaps from trauma, faded and hazy. I reached up and rubbed my temple unconsciously.

Slowly, without thinking about what I was doing, I began walking back toward my home. Charles was waiting for me. Perhaps he knew what had happened to me, and why I felt so strange.

Even walking seemed foreign – I felt as though I weighed nothing. Gravity no longer affected me, I no longer had to balance, almost as if I could float on the ground, my feet barely touching the snow.

Too soon, too quickly, I was standing at my own door. I reached for the handle, closing my hand around the knob. As if it were made of something malleable, it twisted into a corpse in my hand. Trembling, I opened my hand. The remnants of the door handle lay twisted into a fragile corpse in my palm, warped about itself.

Numbly, I dropped it in a snowbank beside the door. Very, _very_ lightly, I tapped the door open. It practically banged open, as if I had kicked it with all my strength.

I stood in the empty doorway, looking into my dark house. No signs of life.

"Charles?" I called softly. There was no reply. I was surprised at how well I could make out shapes. In the night and light-less house, I could see the table, the chairs, the door to our bedroom, the kitchen, as if I carried a candle.

I stepped on inside. Strange scents assaulted me as I walked past the kitchen. I could smell the dinner I had made – the roasted chicken – from… last night? The night before? Strange portions of memories floated back to me and I remembered discarding the chicken leftovers and cleaning fairly well. I was surprised at how strong the smell was. I could also smell scents from various other meals, some had even been weeks ago, I was sure.

Covering my nose, I walked further inside, past the living area. A chair was broken, some splinters were scattered across the floor.

Eloisa. She had been in my house. I could smell her.

I paused. Smell her? I could actually _smell_ several people who had been in here. Cleaning, it smelled like. I frowned. This just seemed to get more strange with each stroke of the clock.

Gliding past the living room, I approached the ajar door to our bedroom. I paused in front of it, admiring the handiwork that someone had done to refit the door to its hinges. Had it been knocked off?

"Charles?" I called out again. There was no reply, no shuffling. No sound.

Gently, even more so than before, I tried to push the door open again. This time, it seemed to be kinder and swung quickly, but not violently. Our bed was empty, clean, new white sheets were across the mattress. There was a good deal of mending done to one of the walls, and as I walked by it, I caught another scent. It smelled of repairmen – and someone else. Someone far different than the repairman. I inhaled deeply, committing this scent to memory. Why I did this, I could not understand, but I did so without hesitation.

"Where did you go, Charles," I murmured softly. I continued to move around the room, peering at all the things that seemed normal. Everything was in is proper place, but the whole atmosphere seemed… off.

My circle of the room gradually drew me to stand in front of the long, gold-embellished mirror. I looked at myself in the looking-glass, and it was a full moment before everything settled in.

I screamed. Loudly. I could feel the floor vibrate beneath my bare feet at the volume of my howl. There was no woman-maiden in the mirror. There was a monster.

Tangled red hair was matted around an unearthly pale face and neck. Her once-white night gown was shredded stained with blood – her own blood, I noted, as memories started to flood back to me at the sight. Her lips were crimson, standing out in stark contrast. Any trace of the faint scattering of freckles was burned into the alabaster skin. She was beautiful, in a hellish sort of way. Utterly graceful, the slender curve of her hip and tilt of her waist.

But it was not her shredded gown nor the crimson splashes or the frighteningly snow-colored skin that frightened me so. It was her eyes. The eyes that stared at me were not my own. They were not Imogen's. They were the devil's himself.

Crimson-colored irises almost seemed to glow red in the darkness. In my terror, I leaped back away from the mirror. What was wrong with the mirror I could not understand. In one leap, though, I covered the entire distance of the room.

I carefully leaned against the back wall.

"What's happened to me," I whispered, trembling. Was the woman in the mirror truly who I was now? Did her ghoulish appearance explain the strange nuances I had found earlier? My hands covered my face and my back slid down the wall as I curled into a ball on the floor.

"Charles," I moaned softly. Where _was_ he? "I have to find him."

I jumped to my feet, nearly crashing through the far wall. Something was terribly, terribly wrong. What had God cursed me to?

I ran out the door of the bedroom, out the door of the house. I landed in the snow and did not stop. As my feet touched down on the snow, I broke into a dead run. Where I was running to, I did not know.

The trees, the snow around me flew by like lightning. The faster I ran, the more I frightened myself. The more frightened I became, the faster I ran. I was like liquid lightning – flying across the snow, barely leaving a footprint. Snow from the Heavens swirled around me as I ran, catching my fire hair and sticking to my skin. It did not melt.

Nearing the center of the town, I finally slowed. Right in the middle of the trading square were the remnants of a bonfire. In slow motion, I walked toward the embers.

I stopped at the foot of the structure, staring at all the ashes. Soft plumes of whitish smoke still rose up from some of the portions of ashes, but most of the rubble was still.

A soft chill swept down my spine. Inhaling deeply, I smelled a troubling scent. It smelled… slightly of Charles. Without paying attention to where I was stepping – if I stepped on hot coals, I did not notice I was too numb – I walked into the ashes.

Pushing a half-charred branch out of the way, I fell to my knees, kicking up plumes of grey soot. Without thinking, I began to dig through the ashes. After a moment, my hands touched something hard. Closing my palms around it, I pulled it out of the ashes and blew the remaining debris off of it. In my palms rested a blueish, multi-colored smooth riverstone.

"I'm sorry, Victoria."

I did not turn to face Eloisa as I sat in the middle of Charles' cremation.

"What… happened?" I murmured, running my fingers over the smoothness of the riverstone.

"A monster is what happened. A foul, bloodsucking monster from Hell. It attacked your home, it's a miracle you survived. Charles… did not. The monster attacked five other people including an infant. They had to all be burned. We found your home the next morning, Charles… I'm so sorry, but you were gone. We had no idea what had happened – some speculated the monster dragged you off. Elizabeth's husband, Tom, and his brother fixed your home back up in case you were hiding and would come home," Eloisa finished.

I processed everything she said as I stood up, still holding Charles' stone. He had kept it. After so many years, he had kept it the whole time. Memories trickled back to me as I held the stone – he had been sleeping next to me when we were attacked, which meant he must have had the stone in his pocket while he slept. Did he have any idea the piece of red glass was always carried with me? It rested in my bodice right now. I had always thought it was silly that I still carried it around and I could not set it down, so I had never told him. I regretted that decision now, because apparently Charles had not thought it silly.

I turned to face her. I frowned softly. In the moonlight, she looked… different. Her movements were slower, and she gasped as I faced her.

_Ba-bum._

"Victoria?" She whispered, looking frightened.

"What?"

"What happened to you?"

_Ba-bum. Ba-bum. Ba-bum._

I frowned. What was that irritating noise?

Slowly, Eloisa was backing away.

"I'll leave you to your mourning. We're just glad that you are alright," she whispered, continuing to back away.

_Ba-bum-ba-bum-ba-bum-ba-bum._

Heartbeat.

I was hearing a heartbeat. And it was getting faster.

A strange, disembodying sensation settled on me.

_It was not my own heartbeat._

It was Eloisa's.

I watched in helpless surprise as she continued to back away. Every false smile on her face, every twitch of her muscle betrayed my close friend to me.

_She was afraid._

What had I become? Was I something to be feared? Was I something that should not exist?

"Eloisa-"

"No, it's alright. I'll just go now. Please, stay, Victoria. Please," she added. I felt my heart tighten with her last word – she was begging for her life for some reason.

Why would Eloisa be afraid of me? Did the monster kill Charles and somehow forever alter me? I could not understand why she would back away in fear.

I looked to my right as an evergreen rustled. With a dramatic sweep of her arm, the Wind swirled around, changing direction. It blew from behind Eloisa and into me. Without even thinking, I inhaled deeply. My mind had no time to contemplate; my body had no time to resist. I was slave to this new nature of mine.

My world turned red.


	10. Nomad

**Look! I'm back! Sorry I disappeared for a while. NaNoWriMo was going on, and I was working on that. A month is a long time to go without playing with fanfiction. Though I utterly failed at NaNo, I did get a lot written if it wasn't the full count. I really wanted to work on fanfiction, so I'm happy to be back writing this. I'm already halfway through eleven for this story, and I have a challenge for a oneshot. So, here I am! I was so impressed with how many people kept reading, reviewing and favoriting my stuff, even though I wasn't adding more. Love you guys, I'm happy to be back. (A month is a really long time.)**

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Chapter Ten

Nomad

I didn't remember how long I had been running. I ran, hard. Fast. Hours had slipped by. The moon was setting and the dawn was gathering. Boston was far behind me, Eloisa was far behind me. I was racing away from the dawn, running west.

Even as the landscaping around me blurred into nothing but white – eventually, as I neared West Virginia it started to thin – I could see nothing but the images forever emblazoned in my mind.

Eloisa's scream echoed in my mind over and over again. Never had I truly heard something so frightened.

Eloisa was probably in her home now, wrapped up in a blanket, sleeping. She was safe. Somehow, somewhere, Some_thing_ had intervened on a course I myself did not have the strength to alter. Ironically, it had been the very thing that killed Charles that had saved Eloisa.

I had already launched myself onto her – I could see nothing but the blood in her veins. I couldn't see her face: it was only as she screamed that I remembered she was not some faceless food. She was my close and guarded friend. Still. Something inside me was stronger than myself. Even as I cried for it to stop and leave her alone, I could not hold back the want.

It was the Wind. It changed direction as precisely the right moment. Not only did it blow Eloisa's scent away from me, but it blew something else's toward me.

The monster.

I had looked to Eloisa, whispered an apology, before turning.

My throat burned for my first meal despite my horror and desire to stop it. My hunger, however, was not my most prevalent desire.

I had smelled the monster that had taken Charles' life and completely destroyed my own. There would be Hell to pay. I would not rest until justice had been delivered.

As much as my body cried in anger that I would not fulfill its most primal desire, I continued to run on, following the scent.

At first, its path had been wild, erratic, as if it didn't know where it was going. Then it straightened out as if it knew I was following, and fled.

The scent grew thin as I neared Kentucky's border. I slowed down to a moderate walk, but the foliage continued to breeze by. I was still amazed by my new body. In my run, I had been able to push aside the strange longing in my throat.

I had discovered new aspects about my body – not only could I run as fast as the Wind itself, I could leap into the branches of heaven-reaching trees. With long, open spaces before me, I discovered I could vault across the ground, clearing boulders, streams and bushes. Once, I did not completely clear a boulder, and was surprised to find myself sitting on the ground with the large rock in crumbles around me.

The sensations inside of me were far too foreign to contemplate. I did not fear as one might after finding herself in such an unpredictable or incomprehensible situation. There was an exhilaration to it – a new sense of life and vitality, but it was coupled with a near-incapacitating pain in my heart where my love for Charles had been – and still was – but it, too, like myself, had changed into something else entirely.

Eventually, I stopped completely, and stood there. My feet were bare, and I was still wearing my shredded night gown. I was practically naked. The breeze tossed my tangled curls and I pushed them out of my face irritably.

"Now what?" I asked aloud, as if I expected a great voice from the sky to answer me. Only the wind moved, stirring the foliage around my feet. There was _nothing_ nearby.

With a deep sigh, I started walking aimlessly forward. Without the scent of Charles' killer in my throat, I felt a different sort of want. I tried to swallow, but my throat was dry.

Burning.

It burned. My throat was dry, scratchy… irritable. I was thirsty. I wanted something to drink. As I thought about the idea of drinking, I was suddenly aware of the sound of water running. Altering my course, I began walking toward what sounded like a stream.

The source of the noise was much further away that I had initially thought – after several minutes of walking, I finally saw the source of the noise. A small stream emptied into an average-sized pond. I was surprised I could even here the sound at all – the stream was barely moving in any way to make a sound.

Instantly, I dropped to the ground and crawled to the edge. I did not care if the water was clean or not. I was thirty. I shoved my hands into the water and cupped them, bringing a big mouthful to my lips. Drinking deeply, I swallowed. And choked. And coughed.

I wiped my mouth, staring at the water in surprise. It _looked_ crystal clear, but it tasted of mud. And my throat still burned.

I frowned a little, and my stomach turned. Had the water poisoned me? Was I sick now? I turned away from the stream as my stomach twisted around itself, and I promptly, gracelessly, returned the water to the earth.

I wiped my mouth again and stared at the strange water, feeling much better now that it was no longer in my stomach.

Perhaps drinking strange water had not been such a good idea. My thirst seemed even stronger now. Though it seemed undrinkable, it would be safe to bathe in, right?

The idea of cleaning sounded blissful. Without a second thought, I tried to undress – and ended up ripping the garments off of me by mistake. A strange surreal feeling washed over me. It had been as if my hand had spasmed, as if I had no control over my body. If my muscle twitched just a little too much, I did irreversible damage.

Dropping the shredded, flimsy ghost-like garment, I stepped into the chilly waters. Though I was further south, it was still winter, and the water was sure to be ice-cold. The thought of cleanliness, though, overrode my want for warmth.

Bracing myself, I stuck my toe into the water, gently lowering my heel into the water. I was very surprised to discover the pond was warm. Perhaps it was heated by thermal vents underground.

Eagerly, I disregarded the scientific explanation and slipped completely into the water, letting the liquid clean my naked body. I ducked underwater and ran my fingers through my hair. The strands floated around me, long and curled. I smiled softly, bubbles escaping my lips.

At least no one would ever tell me I had to put my hair up again.

* * *

I had been wandering for hours. Hours? Had it truly been hours? After cleaning myself, I had crawled out of the pond, leaving my shredded night gown on the ground. At first, I felt ashamed walking around in the complete nude, but it was so dark no one could see me. The only thing I carried with me were my stones. The red one, and Charles'. I clutched them both in one hand, leaving the other free.

Ahead, I could see the fence posts of a village. Perhaps I could find someone to clothe me there.

The first part of the town that I came to was the industrial part. No homes, no people. Only closed, darkened store fronts.

I paused outside a dressmaker's shop, and looked in at the pretty dresses in the store front. Without thinking about it, I put both my hands on the glass to get a better look. Instantly, the glass shattered completely beneath my fingertips. I stood there, staring in shock. I had only touched the glass, and it had shattered beneath my finger.

I stared up at the mannequin for a moment, and then without thinking, I stepped across the broken glass and into the display.

It only took a moment. The hand-sewn mannequin was suddenly bare, and my naked body was now garbed like a queen. I paused, looking at my reflection in the remaining bits of glass. I gently tucked the two stones that were, easily, the most precious thing in the world to me now, safely inside the bodice. My only tie to Charles was going to be forever with me.

The crushed velvet gown was evergreen-colored, hemmed with gold. The bodice had elaborate light-green needlework, hemmed again with gold. The square neck set off my slender neck and the deep green complimented my flaming hair seductively.

I walked on through the display and dropped down into the store. The room should have been dark, but I could see everything clearly. A strange sensation settled over me. Again. Another, of many. Perhaps it was dark in the room – for I could see no lantern lit – but I could see in the darkness like I never could before.

A sense of wonderment filled me, and I wandered around the room slowly, my eyes wide to a whole new world.

I paused in front of the long, body-mirror to admire my new body. Now that I was clean, I could better see myself. Or the person I had become.

My body was different. I was the same height, my waist was still small, and my breasts had not changed. My skin was as pale as the moon, but in an eerie, beautiful way. I could see things on myself now that I had not seen before.

My skin was perfect and smooth. I traced my fingertips across my cheek lightly. As much as I wanted to look over the fullness of my lips and the prominence of my cheekbones, I could not help but to lean closer, and to stare into my own eyes. They were still a vibrant red color, but they were getting darker in color. How strange, that my eyes that once matched my dress would now match my hair.

I shook my head slightly, fluffing my hair out. The crazy red curls were pleased to be free from any confines, and coiled happily down my back. The only jewelry I wore was the pendant Nana had given me. I touched St. Julian's head. Had she known? Did she fear this would happen to me? How could she have known such a thing?

"Hey! Miss!"

I turned. There, on the street, looking through the broken shop window and display at me in the store, was a police officer. Slowly, my body turned around to face him completely. I moved to the window display, and stepped up inside of it again. My bare feet moved across the broken glass, but it did not hurt. I did not flinch.

"Miss, I'm afraid I'm going to have to place you under arrest for destruction of property and theft. Please, come here."

I moved to the edge of the window and stared at the man. The shop window was elevated, so I stood higher than he did. I paused, my toes just at the edge of the window. As I came to stop just at the edge, my lungs were filled with the fresh night air.

"Miss, please-"

The police officer had time to say no more. I cannot articulate that possessed me, but it was like Hell itself raging through my veins. Fire burned in my throat, and I could feel saliva building in my mouth. A small voice questioned in the back of my mind whether it really was saliva or not – the consistency wasn't quite right. Saliva or not, my throat was burning. I had been hungry while walking, and for the first time, I realized what I was hungry for.

_Monster,_ an inner voice warned.

_Hungry,_ another replied.


	11. First Blood

**I am... absolutely enamored with the amount of love this story is getting. I know some of you are just reading it, hoping against hope sometime I'll eventually get to the part with James and Bella, and maybe the newborns. I promise you, I will. I want to get to that part badly, too. But like with all my stories, it's like the characters are telling me what happens - and Victoria has a lot to tell at this part. Thank you so much for your support, and if you liked it, I'd love to hear it. Something doesn't quite jazz right, let me know. I love feedback, and I love you! Thanks again!**

Chapter Eleven

First Blood

The man did not even see me coming. In a half-second, I had jumped from the store window and onto him. He fell beneath me, his back crashing into the ground. He yelled loudly in pain as I heard something crack – had I broken his bones? My body didn't care.

_Ba-bum._

I could only hear one thing – the furious pounding of his heart. His blood was just beneath my fingertips as I sat on top of his chest. His skin was as fragile as glass. I tore away at his shirt until his upper right shoulder was bare.

His arteries pulsed at me while his veins glowed. I could not only smell the blood in his body, but see the movement with his heartbeat. Had I been slightly less depraved, I would have been horrified at the way I reacted to him - at what I was. But my body was too hungry, and I did not have time to consider anything else.

I barely registered as he screamed beneath me: all I cared about was silencing him. Without actually considering how it would work, I lunged over and sank my teeth into his flesh on top of his shoulder. He howled and twisted beneath me, but my grip held him fast.

I planned to only take a little, to relieve me of my madness. I thought having just a little would ease it, and then we could go about our separate ways. The taste of his blood did just the opposite.

Sweet on the tongue, instead of quieting the monster inside of me, it suddenly roared to life as it discovered its food source. His screams died beneath me with the rest of his body. I could not lift my lips from his wound until no more blood flowed. I continued to suckle at the wound, as if trying to take every last drop.

_Still hungry._

I sat upright and licked my lips. That had been messier than I planned. Surely there was an easier way to do that. I took the dead officer's handkerchief and dabbed at my face. Somehow, it hadn't spilled onto my dress. I wiped my hands, and left his handkerchief with him.

A thought struck me. He probably had a family. A wife and kids. The fact that I had taken his life did not bother me. It was, strangely, the fact that it did not bother me that bothered me. I did not care that I could have left a widow, and most certainly grieving parents.

This world had ungratefully taken away the one thing I cared about more than anything else – I had given up my family's name and title for Charles. He was willing to have me, even though I could never bare him a child. The most perfect and purest and kindest man in the world, and God was so cruel as to take him away. To snuff out a life so easily. Who was I to be kind and loving and considerate when God Himself was a cruel being.

"What the devil!?"

I looked over my shoulder as two more men came around the corner. They both wore police uniforms with badges. Tonight was not going to be a good night for their families. I slowly turned to face the men completely. They gaped at me – of course they did. I was no longer like them. Though fear showed in their eyes, I was not oblivious to the look of longing as their eyes trailed down my regally-gowned body. I had seen that look many times when my mother had shown me off to potential suitors.  
Delicately, I stepped away from their fallen service member and walked toward them. As I did so, their attention was drawn back to the dead body at my feet, and suddenly they remembered their purpose.

I continued walking toward them, drawn by a hunger deep inside me. How many would I consume? Could I live like this? My body did not give my mind time for such questions.

I faltered when they both drew pistols. Did I want to die tonight? _Yes, yes I did._ This existence… it was a nightmare. A nightmare because Charles was no longer in it. A nightmare because something otherworldly had happened to me. Death was cruel – he could not take me with Charles.

With renewed purpose, I continued walking toward the men. Hopefully they would be good shots, and I would not feel much.

Four shots rang out into the night, consecutively. I flinched, and waited. No pain. The bullets had hit their mark, and I could feel nothing. I closed my eyes, waiting to slip into nothingness and to join Charles. I heard three more shots, followed by cursing.

"She's still standing!"

Was I?

I opened my eyes slowly. The two men in front of me were wide-eyed. Terrified, they crossed themselves before backing away slowly. A little confused, I glanced down to my dress. Six bullet holes were dusted across it. I had counted seven shots, though. Looking to my bare shoulder, I brushed some dust off of it and lifted my fingers to my nose: it smelled of gunpowder and crushed steel.

"Devil!" One of the men whispered to the other. I glanced over to look at them as they whispered, startled that I could hear them, clear as day.

"The bullets just turned to dust as they hit her!"

"There is evil magic here," one murmured.

Without warning, both turned and started running. I had only been mildly interested in them when I discovered I was not dead, but the sight of their fleeing forms sparked a sense of pursuit inside of me.

It took five steps before I overtook them, tackling one to the ground. He howled in agony and I could feel his ribs crush beneath my hands. I did not hesitate a moment to think about it before I plunged my lips to his neck.

This time, I was no longer startled by my own carnal nature and only wanted to be satiated. Minutes was all it took to silence the man beneath me. Not a drop was spared, and as soon as I finished, I was running after his friend.

Though he had a head start, the human stood no chance at out running me. I stopped suddenly in my tracks. The human? I had referred to him as human, as if I were no longer so. Was I not? I stood there for a moment longer. No, I was decidedly not human. But what _was_ I?

The deeper level of that question would have to be saved for later. The obvious answer needed to be addressed: I was hungry, and my food was running away.

I resumed my gait and had caught up to the man within seconds. Within the minute, he, too, had joined his friends.

I stood up and brushed myself off. I dabbed my lips – I had been much more practiced this time.

Definitely not human.

But what, then?

I had heard stories of monsters that would sneak into bedrooms and steal children. I had also heard stories of monsters that made men cheat on their wives. I had never heard stories of monsters that drank blood and made new monsters.

Had a monster like me, now, been what had attacked Charles and I? It certainly had smelled like it. But why was I alive and Charles dead?

I glanced over my shoulder suddenly. Would the men I just attacked become like me? Sudden paranoia gripped me. No, I couldn't. I was hunting my maker; I did not want someone to hunt me. I glanced around. There was no pulse from the men, but just to be sure, I started to pull their limbs off. If they had no bodies, they could not rise, right?

It would make for a gruesome tale in the morning, but I couldn't take the chance. I did not care if their families wept. I had wept enough for all of them when Charles was taken.

I was aware, though, that I was still hungry. Insatiable. I wanted more, but I wanted knowledge. I wanted to know what I had become. What I was now. But where did I begin?

I walked along the empty streets. It was as if the rest of the town knew to leave their doors locked. Walking by one home, I could feel eyes watching me through upstairs windows. I bit back a smirk.

I kept walking past the dark windows. I heard rustling inside one house, and in another, I heard labored breathing and an erratic heartbeat.

"_She killed the officers."_

"_Poor Joan, with that infant all alone now."_

"_What IS it?"_

"_Oh, sweet Jesus she's stopped outside!"_

"_Shh, shh, don't let her see you."_

"_Fetch the Holy Water!"_

I chuckled softly, listening to the whispers from behind the bolted doors. I had never even looked at these people, and they feared the ground I walked on. Perhaps, just perhaps, this life wouldn't be so bad. I could run as fast as I pleased. Pistols could not kill me. People feared me.

I would never be close to anyone again, not like this, but the only person I wanted to be close to was taken from me violently.

I froze as a thought occurred to me.

If the creature that had killed Charles and forever changed me was the same as what I was now, that meant there were more. How many more?

Dozens of thoughts ran through my mind as I envisioned colonies of creatures living together in secrecy. If that were the case, why had one so brazenly risked their exposure? Not unlike what I had done, all things considered. The more likely situation was there were just too few for word to spread.

_"She stopped! Oh God, is she coming in here?"_

I looked to my right at the window nearby. Four, frightened faces were staring back at me. I flinched in their direction and watched with a morbid fascination as they went running away, running into each other and tripping over things. With a laugh, I continued walking. I felt stronger now, feeding was not my primary drive. I craved information instead.

My path took me on out of the town and along another country road. I walked beneath the moonlight, letting the wind flow along, catching my hair and gown, fanning them out around me. I closed my eyes and smiled.

So this is what freedom felt like.

I was quickly adjusting to this new body. If a monster came with it, I would deal with that. This feeling of power and freedom was better than anything else.

Except Charles.

I would trade it all to have him back.

* * *

The stars turned overhead, signaling the passage of night.

I grew not weary, nor hot nor cold, weak nor famished, saved the perpetual burn in my throat. My bare feet bore no scars as I moved. Even though I continued to walk faster and faster, the lines around me stayed crisp and sharp. They did not blur or fade around me – they stayed as clear as if I were standing still.

To my awe and delight, I discovered that even while running at a speed at which the wind itself labored to keep up, I could turn my head and look in all directions. Everything I looked at was clear and defined and I never once became disoriented. It was beautiful.

_I_ was beautiful.

The stars continued to turn around me as I came to a stop on the outskirts of the town I had just frightened. I felt a twinge of guilt as I peeked over my shoulder – the town had turned on all of its lights now.

I closed my eyes and listened – I could hear their murmured voices. Loved ones crying and hugging each other, praising Jesus. The toll of the churchbell signaled an impromptu service. For praise or to mourn their dead officers, I did not know. I felt a soft chill when I realized I did not care, either. Perhaps I was just a monster now. Perhaps with my life, the creature had taken my humanity.

No, it was not with _my_ life that the monster had stolen my humanity. It had been with _Charles'_ life. Should I walk as I were now, with Charles by my side, I would not feel this hollow emptiness that bitterness and vengeance were quick to fill.

I shook my head and continued walking away from the noise behind me. Perhaps once I destroyed the beast that had murdered Charles, I would kill myself.

But how?

I glanced down and touched where the metal projectiles had put holes in my dress but had deformed violently when they touched my skin. If fire and iron could not destroy my body… what could?

Was I truly… a god?

Had my skin been any warmer, I would have shivered at the thought. I realized with unease that, at the moment, more than food, I needed knowledge. Surely someone, somewhere would know something.

Absentmindedly, I touched my fingers to Saint Julian resting against my breastbone. Patron Saint of Wanderers, indeed. Since I was some sort of hellish demon, perhaps the church knew of the evil inside me now. Could I even be allowed to enter a cathedral?

If I had not believed in a God before, I at least believed there was a Hell now. Perhaps that was what I deserved for not having my faith.

As if on cue, or, perhaps there was indeed a God, watching me with morbid fascination or perhaps trepidation, I noticed a church in the distance. A quaint, countryside church. At the late hour, there might not even be a pastor inside. Perhaps I could slip inside and find some volumes to read.

I moved across the ground swiftly, the night air brushing past me. Within minutes, I was standing at the door. Had I my human legs, it would have taken me an hour to walk the distance.

Hesitantly, I tried the door. It creaked and groaned under my strength and I quickly stopped. I did not wish to destroy this door, as well, but it appeared as if I merely breathed on the thing it would splinter.

With extraordinary care, I opened the door. I stood in the doorway a moment longer. Had I not been reassured of my hellish nature by my feeding, I would not have even entertained the idea that a church would cause me to burst into flame. Would white light consume my body, or would fire rise from the ground, leaving only ash in its wake?

Carefully, I held my hand in midair. Gently, I passed it through the doorway and waved it around. It still seemed to be attached; no smoking or white light. With the same degree of caution, I placed one foot inside the sacred door, and when my body did not ignite, I carefully shifted my weight inside.

Finally, I found myself standing on the holy side of the threshold. I waited, holding my breath.

Fire still did not come.

I exhaled slowly and nudged the door gently closed behind me. I winced as it sounded with a bang. So much for discretion.

I moved slowly, with exaggerated caution. I did not wish to provoke whatever Entity had thought it fit to leave me as I was. I moved down the aisle, letting the rows of wooden pews glide past me. The church was in complete darkness, but I found that I could see as if the full moon were in the room with me.

I came to pause in front of the crucifix behind the podium. The man on the cross was staring back at me, and I could not help but be transfixed by his marble eyes. They were hollow and empty, much as I felt inside.

As I stared into his cold eyes, I felt as if the look of pity that he bestowed on his sinning congregation was made for only me. The room was so still and so quiet, the magnificence of the crucifix was only amplified. It felt… magical, even.

Perhaps those who knelt and prayed here really were heard. Perhaps even, _I_ could be heard. Suddenly encouraged by the idea and the blanketing silence around me, I leaned a little closer to the stone representation of eternal salvation.

"Good Lord," I murmured softly, moved by the magnitude of it. Even in darkness without the sunlight on His marble skin, He was beautiful. "I do not know if You listen," I said softly, feeling a little foolish. "But I need some answers."

I moved a little closer, watching the cold figure above me.

The deeper I stared into His eyes, the more real He seemed. In my mind, I could almost imagine a fleshy body on the cross. A deep, spiritual feeling fell over me.

_Ba-dum._

My eyes widened when I heard His heart beat. There _was_ something there! I held my breath, moving a little closer.

_Ba-dum. Ba-dum._

"Are You…" I murmured, moving behind the podium so I stood in front of the statue.

"Beautiful," a voice murmured.

I spun around to face the source of the voice – it was not the Savior standing over me, as my wild imagination had first hoped – but a man standing at the back of the church.

In my rapture, I had not smelled nor heard him as he stepped out of the cold, and I realized with a sinking heart that it was _his_ life force I heard, not the statue's.

He froze as I turned to face him, and he smiled apologetically.

"I'm sorry, I did not mean to interrupt your prayer," he said knowingly. A kind, sweet and devout man. As he pushed the door closed behind him, the breeze blew his scent right toward me. Instantly, my thirst flared.

_Not him, he can help you,_ an inner voice warned.

_Tasty,_ another encouraged.

I watched him as he walked to a door in the side wall of the church. He moved slowly. Too slowly, I thought. I watched him even more carefully now, as he lifted a key from his pocket. After unlocking the door, he opened it and stepped inside, leaving the door open behind him.

My body ached to rush after him and finish him. The thought of the precious warm liquid flowing down my throat again. So sweet, it made my body ache.

Even for me, however, a demon in human form, slaying a man of God in his own church seemed even too cruel. Would I really allow myself to do such a thing? Did I have that sort of control? I had just fed, perhaps… perhaps I _could_ spare this man…

I listened to his footsteps as he shuffled around the room. He was looking through papers, or something of the like, I reasoned.

After what seemed like several minutes had passed, he re-emerged in the doorway. He paused, and his eyes quickly found mine. In his hands, an old, gold-embellished leather-bound volume lay.

I watched carefully – if walking into a church and standing before a crucifix had not harmed me, I doubted a Holy Bible would.

"I believe this may be what you are seeking, my dear," he murmured softly. He made no move to approach immediately, but when I did not move, he began to walk slowly down the back row of pews before turning down the center aisle.

He did not come all the way – he paused in the middle, watching me.

_Ba-dum._

He knew. I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. He knew what I was, or at least had an idea that I was not human. In the darkness, could he see my eyes?

He hesitated a moment before turning, and setting the book down on the pew to his right. He looked back to me, held up both hands in front of him and took five steps backward. Slowly, as if to give no pretense of fleeing, he turned and walked back into the small adjacent room he had come from.

He knew me well enough to know that if he even pretended to run from me, my instinct would cave and I _would_ chase. He knew me well enough to know that though I was but a silhouette to him in the darkness, I could see his every heartbeat under his skin, clear as day.

_Perhaps it is not you he knows, but your kind,_ I thought. The notion suddenly sparked my curiosity and quickly quashed my hunger. Within three strides, I was in the center of the church lifting the book he had dropped me from the pew.

I folded my legs underneath me and occupied the place the old book had vacated and began to inspect my new treasure. The cover was old and worn, but it had the aura of a revered book. Despite the worn nature of it, it seemed as though very few people had looked inside. Gold embellishments littered the upper, right hand corner of the book, but it bore no title.

Carefully, I opened the mammoth book in my lap, and let the delicate, thin pages fall where they may. Where they fell was Providence.

"I am… this?" I murmured, my fingers brushing over the ancient ink on the page. In elegant script, one word stared back at me from the old pages.

_Vampyr._

This book was definitely _not_ a Holy Bible.


	12. James

**Wow! It's been a while - I am so sorry to everyone that's been waiting for anything of mine to be published. I got really wrapped up in reading JR Ward's Black Dagger Brotherhood series. I reccomend it highly, but be forewarned: yes, it is, indeed, smut. So know what you're getting into. But it's really good. Anyway! Here's Victoria! I hope I can continue with this story sooner, but because it's Victoria, it takes a peculiar mindset to actually write it. I hope I can stay in it for a bit longer anyway. :p Thanks again!**

* * *

Chapter Twelve

James

I looked up minutes later after skimming the pages of the book. The church was empty. His scent lingered by the door.  
Of course, I could chase him. I could hunt him and slay him. But I felt no such desire. The demon inside of me that burned for blood was quietly adhering to my will. _For the moment,_ I reminded myself.

I had never learned of the vampire when I was younger. _Vampyr_, as some translations took to it. Blood drinking demons of the underworld; their only food source was that of the living. I touched the pages of the book lightly. The first half of the chapter had explained how the creatures did not truly exist – they were stories made up to frighten children into good behavior.

Some of the details listed in the second half of the chapter, however, made me wonder. Perhaps these creatures of myth truly did exist, but never interacted with humans other than to murder them. Who would there be to tell?

My eyes rose to look at the church door. _Someone_ had known.

I opened the book again. Godlike speed, superhuman strength, extraordinary vision… they were all traits of the vampire. As was the blood drinking.

_The vampire can read minds,_ I read. I paused. I had not yet, been able to read someone's mind. I could hear their whispered words, but that fell more into the extraordinary senses area. Perhaps only some vampires could read minds, or perhaps it was a skill developed later.

My mind wandered, and I stared up at the marble figure before me, lost in thought. Was I really one of these? Could I be living – or unliving, as the book suggested - proof that they exist?

It was not until I noticed the book moving that I realized my hands were trembling. I set the book down flat in my lap and pressed my hands together.

The whole idea was rather preposterous and my head was spinning from everything involved. The concept that I could be one of these horrid, fictional creatures was completely absurd. I would have laughed at the idea, if the traits described had not fit me so frighteningly well. Perhaps, just perhaps, there was a grain of truth to the idea. And if I were… one of these fiends, did that make me…

_Immortal._

Could I truly not die?

It would explain the bullets turning to dust upon contact with my body.

For now, I would accept this explanation. The idea of being a monster of Hell was not nearly as ridiculous as some of the things I had discovered about myself. Until a more logical solution surfaced, I was… a vampire.

I had read through the book four times already, cover to cover, and skimmed some of the more important passages even more. From what the book said, blood was my food source now. I needed the life force of humans to sustain myself. I was indestructible to nearly everything. The sun would burn me, but bullets could not kill me. Garlic would weaken me, and if I let someone drive a wooden stake through my dead heart, he could end my life. Perhaps I would kill myself that way once I had destroyed the monster that had killed Charles.

Until then, I needed to avoid sunlight, stakes and garlic. I could handle that much. The holy water was questionable – after all, I _was_ sitting in a church. I shut the book and tossed it onto the pew next to me. Standing up, I glanced around the church. Still alone. Not surprising.

Casting one look over my shoulder to the statue of Jesus, I paused. I felt a smile twitch at my lips.

"Maybe you do really listen to prayers," I murmured softly before turning away, feeling just a little more uplifted. Of course, the answers had both been dark and demented and had left more questions unanswered, but at least I had them now. I had figured out with my first blood craving that I was wicked. Even though the truth was horrifying, it was surprisingly comforting to be aware of it.

My hands grasped the handles to the church door, and in one swift moment I pulled both doors open quickly… …and flooded the room with bright sunlight.

I threw my hands up in front of my face – macabre images of melting, hissing, burning flesh flooded my mind. I growled softly, stumbling backward away from the doors, but it did no good. The entire room was lit up from the bright dawning sun. I winced and braced, waiting for the pain.

Perhaps the fire would take me so quickly I would not feel it. In answer to my question, I felt my skin warm slightly. It warmed, but never burned.

Very slowly, I opened my eyes. What I saw… was breathtaking.

All around me, tiny rainbows danced across the walls. Shimmers of light scattered across every wooden, worn and concrete surface in the building. It was as if the sunlight were dancing through a stained glass window. All the room was aglow with different spectral colors and shapes. I stared in awe at the beautiful shower of light around me.

As I lowered my arms from my face I noticed that the scattering diamonds started to dance. They moved, flickered, and some vanished and new ones appeared. Startled, I turned to face one of the walls. To my surprise, again, the diamonds started to spin. As a test, I held perfectly still. They did not move.

Slowly, I turned and looked down at myself. I did not _burn_ in the sunlight. Quite the contrary. I stood glittering in the sunlight from the dawn streaming through the east-facing doors, looking more like a being that did belong in the church and less like the monster I was.

Every slope, twist and flex of my skin sent thousands of tiny rainbows scattering across the room. In a way, it was something like the underside of a seashell – the rainbow-like pattern reflecting light everywhere. However, no seashell could ever scatter light across the walls of the church like this. The sheen on my skin was like the opal-esque nature of the seashell, but the amount of light-throwing was akin to a large crystal. While my skin shimmered lightly as I turned, the rainbow shifting around across my skin, the large spots of light twisted and danced exotically on the wall.

Apparently, I did not burn in the sunlight, after all. I wondered vaguely how much of what people seemed to think about... vampires... was actually true. I still had difficulty using the word in my mind, let alone saying it aloud.

The garlic, then? And the stake? After witnessing the sunlight and the bullets turning to dust on contact with my body, I was beginning to doubt that a mere piece of wood could pierce me. What if the wooden stake could not kill me? What could? I knew I did want to die. Though powerful and breathtaking, this existence was hollow without Charles. I craved destruction to the creature that destroyed us. And then I craved my own destruction.

I shook off my own macabre thoughts. I had to focus. With purpose, I strode out into the blinding daylight. I would die, but not today, and not before I brought the beast to his knees.

_Immortal._

Gasps and screams rose up around me. The people of the town who were awake with daybreak stopped in their tracks to watch me. Some fell to their knees, thinking me more of an angel walking out of a church, some fled, and some just stared.

One young woman started to approach me, and as she did her scent became very prominent. I felt hungry. When I focused my eyes on her, she stopped as if she were reconsidering. It was too late for her.

Within a second, I bounded across the ground between us and tackled the woman to the ground. I perched on top of her body as her figure went limp beneath mine. I listened, and her heart fluttered once and gave out.

Confused, I shifted her weight and realized her neck had been snapped when she hit the ground. The woman hadn't felt a thing, and nor would she. Perhaps I could kill humanely. Her blood was still warm, and with no hesitation, I leaned over her and bit down on her neck.

Hunger was satiated. My ears rang from the screaming and commotion that was flailing all around me. I did not raise my eyes. I closed them, vowing to enjoy every drop of her blood, and not to be distracted by anything else. The firearms had been little effective. What more could they do to me?

I had to work this time to get her life force out; I had to actually drink, since her young heart had given out already. I did not mind the extra work if it meant she could hurt a little less. When nothing was left, I carefully rose to my feet and looked around. Not a soul was left nearby.

I licked my lips and turned, without a second thought, began walking away from the church. My bare feet wandered along the dirt path, the hem of my evergreen gown trailing behind me regally. I let the wind toss my hair. Curled. Never again braided back tightly. I could not stop the smile that spread across my lips.

Au hazard, I turned to my right, heading into the town. I was feeling emboldened by my apparent lack of destructibility, and I wanted a new dress. I paused by shop windows, looking inside to see if anything caught my fancy. Everyone around me froze and watched as I passed by. When the wind was still, I did not notice their scents. If I could not smell them, I felt no desire to kill them.

Finding little of interest, I continued my way past the buildings and homes. Maybe in the next town. Or the one after. Was that what I was going to be reduced to? Wandering aimlessly from town to town? I had no idea how to go about finding another like me. …Another… another vampire.

My wanderings found me, again, outside a town, leaving destruction behind me. I walked, and walked, and walked. My mind wandered as aimlessly as my feet did. I did not stop moving until the sun fell behind the horizon. Once more, I found myself on the edge of yet another city. Did I dare go inside? Did I dare destroy another family? Steal another daughter? Kill another father?

I exhaled slowly. I tipped my head up to the darkening heavens, letting the wind push my hair out of my face. I did not want this life. I did not ask for this. All I wanted was my freedom. Irony nibbled at the back of my mind.

_This _is_ your freedom._

A freedom unlike any other. I had been content with my freedom with Charles. Perhaps I had wished too hard for freedom, and the Universe had delivered all it could offer.

Unlimited freedom.

Freedom from man.

Freedom from pain.

Freedom from life.

_Freedom from death._

I would not go. I turned away from the torch lamps and glittering yellow flickering up from the huddle of homes. Instead, I turned and began to make my way past the outcropping of human existence.

I heard a sickening crash in the distance, and casually I tilted my head toward the town. The sound did not come from the town. It was coming from the darkness in front of me. Cautiously, I began moving toward the noise, curious.

A growl sounded, followed by a high-pitched squeal. And… a curse? My pace quickened slightly, but I was very wary. Snarling. Another crash. Before me, a tree shuddered before splinters fell away from it. I approached the tree cautiously, reaching out to touch it.

Carefully, I peered around the tree. In a clearing, beyond, two men were circling each other. Like predators. One was smaller with black hair. The other as taller, with blondish hair, tied back at the nape of his neck. His back was to me, so I looked into the face of the other man.

His red eyes flickered to me briefly before looking back to the other man. Red.

One of them was like me.

I watched, holding my breath, as they continued to circle. The smaller launched himself at the larger, snarling. Another crash sounded as their bodies collided and went tumbling, crashing into and splintering another tree. The taller kicked him off and, with lightning movement that was indicative of a second like me, he was on the other side of the small space between the trees.

If my heart still beat, it would have been pounding. Fear and awe coursed through me as I took two steps backward into the shadows to watch the two men fight. Here, before me, were two creatures like me. There were more like myself, cursed to this hell. They moved like me, they acted like me, and even though I could only assume they were of the same second birth that I was, I _knew_ that they were like me – they were vampires, too.

As exciting as it was to cross paths with another, it was also terrifying. They snarled and circled, baring their teeth and hissing. If one fell, would the champion turn on me next? Were we not made to coexist? Part of me wished to flee the terrible battle before me, part of me wished to stay and watch. The latter instinct won over, and I settled further back among the foliage to watch.

The darker-haired man slammed a balled fist into the taller one and catapulted him across the small area. I skirted to one side to avoid being in the way and as I glanced over my shoulder at the fallen blond, my world slowed to a stop.

I truly believe that somewhere, deep inside my dead body, my resting heart thumped once.

"Charles..." I whispered softly.

His features were a little sharper, his nose a little straighter, and most certainly his eyes were not the same for they were red like my own. His hair was the same – I had not noticed him until I had seen his face.

"Charles," I spoke a little louder, trying to catch his attention. He grunted in pain, picking himself up off the ground as the dark haired man charged at him. An ear-splitting crack sounded as Charles' elbow connected with the other man's stomach. He got to his feet as his opponent splayed across the ground. He didn't move.

"Charles," even louder. Charles startled and turned to look at me, giving me a rather peculiar look. I stared into his confused, vacant eyes and a cool breath flushed through my insides, turning what remaining warmth was left to ice.

"You are not Charles," I murmured, my mouth feeling a little dry and my arms feeling a little numb. The hair at the base of my head tickled slightly, slowly standing up on end as the Charles-looking predator turned his full attention on me. Slowly, fluidly, his shoulders rocked backward into a catlike stance.

I swallowed. Would it not be fitting for me to be attacked and killed by someone I had mistaken for my lost lover? Perhaps it would be less cruel – I could at least pretend to be with Charles as he stole my life, one last condolence.

"No, that's not my name," he spoke after a moment. His voice was rough – not at all like Charles' had been – and a bit graveled, perhaps from the fighting. There was a faint accent, from the south of America, perhaps.

"I am... sorry. I thought I knew you," I murmured, watching his weight rock back and forth warily.

His dry lips curled up at the corners in a smile. Perhaps I would not die today, I thought idly.

A soft scattering of leaves drew both our attention quickly, but his was far too late. I looked just in time to see the second man launch himself into my awkward new acquaintance.

I watched, horrified, as the monster reared back, bared his teeth and bit into the Charles-twin's shoulder. He howled in pain in response and twisted, trying to get free from his iron grasp.

I found myself touching my shoulder where the bullets had turned to dust. Perhaps we were not invincible – not to our own, anyway. I touched the teeth just past my lips. Could I truly bite through something that had withstood bullets?

A crack sounded as the dark haired man popped one of the blond's legs. I could not tell if it was a dislocation or a break. I did not know if my teeth were as strong as his, nor did I really think of what I was doing. I was just acting. Some deep part of me still wanted to protect this blond, as if he truly were Charles.

In the time it would take a heartbeat to elapse, I had my arm around the dark-haired vampire's neck. He was much taller than me and as he snarled and started to rise off of the blond, I felt my feet dangle in the air. I wrenched my weight backward, pulling him off balance by the neck. The dirt filtered up around us as we crashed into the earth, and temporarily I could not see. I panicked, trying to get out of his reach before he found me.

As the dust settled, I became aware of a stillness. No movement. I looked across the way, and the Charles-like fellow was sitting on top of the dark-haired vampire's body. _Just_ his body. With mounting squeamish horror, I saw the blond holding the decapitated head. He was tossing it up and down contemplatively like a ball, watching me.

"You know, we make a pretty good team," he murmured lowly before setting the head on the ground next to the body. He kicked the body off of me, letting the form crumple awkwardly. Standing slowly, he took a flint from his pocket and struck it. Flame came to life, and he dropped it on to the body. Fire erupted around the form and I coughed as a peculiar violet-colored smoke filled the area. It smelled putrid.

The man came over to me and extended his hand down to me. Carefully, I took it, and let him display the unusual act of gentlemanly behavior as he helped me to my feet. Still arm in arm, he led me away from the corpse, and I willingly followed.

"So what's your name?" His deep red eyes flickered across my face briefly, glanced down once to my bodice and glanced back up to my eyes approvingly. Had I been human, my face would have turned scarlet.

"Victoria," I said after a moment. I had yet to decide if I were irritated by his boldness or empowered by it. He nodded once, running a hand through his dirty blond hair.

"I'm James," he said after a minute.

He smiled.

I smiled.

Perhaps I _had_ found a companion, after all.


	13. France

**Holy crap. Yes! It's me! I'm back! Exams are over and the plot bunnies are getting fiesty. Victoria's getting restless, I'll definitely be writing more. For now, here's the next chapter! Thank you so much to everyone who has left me an encouraging review. I really appreciate that, and even when I'm so buried under homework and exams, it still reminds me that people are still reading, even if I'm not writing. Thank you.**

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Chapter Thirteen

France

America, 1930

The moon was setting in the west across the ocean. I let my bare toes touch the water just beneath the pier, sending ripples scattering out around my feet in the waning moonlight. The moon was setting, but the night was not nearly over.

As the last rays of moonlight disappeared behind the endless sea, I smiled, sitting in the perfect dark. And yet, I could see.

Something soft brushed across my fingertips and I turned to look to my companion. James was staring down at me intently, an unreadable look in his eyes. I couldn't quite tell what he wanted or was thinking, but that was alright. We got along well enough in other ways. Lifting my feet from the water, I drew my heels onto the pier and hugged my knees.

"Do you know what tonight is?"

I turned to him again at the sound of his voice. Again. Unreadable.

"Should I?"

"In twelve hours from now, when the sun is overhead, it will have been fifty years since you found me," he murmured softly. Fifty. _Fifty._ That was beyond what my life expectancy had been at the time of my death.

Numbly, I rested my chin on my knees, staring out across the water.

"Are you alright, Victoria?"

I nodded in response, still thinking. Ever since my change, nothing had been the same. Clearly I was different in form and desires than I had been before, but everything else was different, too. Time flowed differently. It raced by me, people grew old and died. My mother was probably long gone, I was certain Nana was. I was glad I had made my peace with her while I could. I closed my eyes, pulling up my last, perfect recollection of her, several years earlier.

_England, 1895_

_The familiar walls moved by me. The threshold of home passed beneath my feet. Beneath the cover of darkness, I felt strangely at home, due to the darkness, not the surroundings. My childhood home seemed eerie. Dark. Unfamiliar. I inhaled. Mother._

_I stilled in the shadows and looked to my right. The woman who had raised me stood before a dying fireplace, looking withered in her age. She was slimmer, her hair was salt-and-peppered, no longer beautiful ebony. She turned to look at the dark corner I was standing in, though I knew she could not see me. Her eyes were hollow and empty, her cheek bones standing out in sharp relief from the firelight._

"_Victoria."_

_I stiffened. Surely she could not see me. I did not move. I did not breathe. The darkness that was around me was impenetrable by human eyes – and yet. And yet she knew._

"_I had word that there had been a wolf attack... and that you had died," she said. She seemed confused, disoriented._

"_I did," I said slowly, dangerously. Awareness flickered across her eyes. Winnifred didn't move. I saw the ache in her eyes to run to her once-lost daughter, but her human instincts held her back. She did not understand why, but her body commanded her to stay away. Rightfully so._

_There had been one time when I had thought of killing my own mother. It was no longer. I had no want for this woman before me. I had no desire to kill her, either. I had wrestled with the treacherous thirst for years, and only now was I able to stand before a human and hold the beast within._

"_How do you stand before me, dear Victoria?" I felt a twitch in my cheek at the use of the word 'dear'. I had never been dear to Winnifred. I had been a beacon of my father's loving affections for another woman._

"_I made a deal with the devil," I replied calmly. I saw no purpose in pointing out that I had little say in the bargain made with my soul – or that I would have gladly traded this existence for death with Charles._

_Winnifred gasped and stepped away, back toward the fire and away from the darkness. Away from me. I nodded once in the darkness._

"_Is Nana still here?" I inquired coolly. I had not come to see Winnifred._

"_Yes, she is old and ailing," she explained. Her eyes widened as I moved toward the staircase that had led up to Nana's living quarters. "Victoria! You will not – will you?"_

_I paused and looked over my shoulder, reading the evident fear on her face._

"_Do not worry for her. There is only one person in this home that should be afraid of me. It is not Nana." I took sadistic pleasure in the whitening of her skin and the falter in her heartbeat. I hid back my triumph as she shrunk away from me, her adrenalin betraying her terror. Wordlessly, I turned toward the stairs once more, letting the smile play across my lips fully once she could not see._

_I took the steps slowly, deliberately. I could have taken the entire, winding staircase in a second or two had I wanted, but I was choosing my course carefully. James had warned me of the dangers of discovery – of the elite ruling class only a country away. Winnifred knew, of course, but the less of my hellish existence I granted her, the more likely she would think it a dream, a hallucination in her age._

_I stopped in front of Nana's door and pressed my hands against it. I took a deep breath, setting my mind. This was not something I wanted to ruin. I might not have cared one way or another if I had slipped with Winnifred – she was nothing to me. Nana was everything to me. Once I had filled my lungs with clean air, I slowly pushed open the door._

_Darkness met me, but it did not impede me. It was welcoming. To another, the room would be pitch black. I scanned the room, my eyes resting on a sleeping form curled on a bed against the far wall. I pulled the door closed quietly behind me, but the disturbance was enough to startle the older woman. She struggled to roll over, and with some more fumbling, she managed to light the taper next to her bed._

"_Oh!"_

_I was sure I was but a shadow to her, lingering in the darkness. Judging by the way she quickly crossed herself, I did not doubt her candlelight was reflecting off my red eyes._

"_Worry not," I murmured, concerned by how fast her elderly heart was racing. "I came to visit." Carefully, I stepped forward, letting her candlelight wash over me, revealing my presence._

"_Victoria?"_

"_Nana," I said in greeting. I did not approach too quickly and I stopped just inside the halo of light, coming no closer to her._

"_I… ye… what happened? Ye haven't changed in twenty years," she murmured, bewildered. I took comfort in the fact her curiosity seemed to be overpowering her fear. I feared her old heart might give out._

"_Many things have happened," I explained slowly._

"_Ye look like Victoria, but I… I cannot believe that ye are. We heard that Charles and Victoria had been attacked by wolves overseas – and ye look like Victoria when she would have been in her twenties. Ye cannot be her," she breathed, her eyes wide._

_I sighed softly. Clever woman. I reached up behind my neck and unlatched the chain there. "I am going to approach you – fear not," I warned her. She stiffened, and nodded once, brave as ever. Moving slowly, I came to stand within arm's length of Nana, and I extended my arm toward her, my hand cupped into a fist. Instinctively, Nana put her open palm beneath mine, and I dropped the old necklace into her waiting hand._

"_Saint Julian," she whispered, turning the familiar pendant over in her hands. "Bless my stars, ye are Victoria…" She trailed off, her hands trembling. "But yer not human. Yer Victoria, but yer not human," she murmured, more to herself, shaking her head. She held her hand back out, and I took the pendant back, stepping back away from her to give her room._

"_The wolves were not wolves," I murmured softly as I fastened the chain around my neck, watching her closely, monitoring her vitals. I could easily hear her heartbeat and breathing._

"_And yer Charles? Is he… like yeh?"_

"_No," I said slowly. Nana sensed the change in my tone, the sadness that I allowed inside in Charles' honor. I looked down to the floor, trying to regain my sense. Charles, still, was the one person who could shake my stable world._

_A rustle caught my attention and I glanced toward Nana, startled to see her standing. Faster than I would have considered the older woman able to, she crossed the distance between us bravely._

"_What are you-"_

_I was unable to finish my question before she put her arms around me courageously. "I'm so sorry, little Miss. Yeh lost yer lover, and a fine young man he was, too. I kin only imagine how hard that was, an' what that wolf monster did to yeh."_

"_Are you not afraid of what I am?" I asked incredulously after a moment of stillness._

"_A little," she admitted. "Yer mother? Winnifred, I mean, is she…"_

"_She is well. A little frightened, but whole and very much alive," I whispered tightly, my air supply running out. "Forgive me, I dare not touch you," I said. I feared that if I returned the fragile woman's embrace, I might crush her accidentally. The only time I touched with humans was when I was hunting – I did not care if I broke bones then._

"_Of course," she said. Her hands fluttered over me, and I stayed perfectly still. Her right palm came to rest on my chest over my heart. We stayed still for a moment, and then Nana came to the inevitable conclusion._

"_Oh, my stars," she murmured, slowly retracting her hand back to her chest. One foot stepped behind the other as she backed away from me. "Yer not.. it does not... I mean, I knew, yer eyes, but I..."_

"_The proof is difficult to believe, is it not? Imagine how I felt," I murmured softly, watching her. She only nodded numbly, and I sympathized. I had gone through the strange cacophony of emotions initially, as well. The disbelief, the confusion all barreling down on us. With James' help, I had come to terms with myself and gained control of my nature._

"_Yer... why did ye come to me?" I watched silently as Nana eased herself back onto her bed._

"_Time is running out for you," I said quietly. Nana seemed to realize the kindness in my voice meant that I was not the bringer of Death, but age and time would be._

"_But not for ye," she murmured. I did not need to answer the statement; the affirmation was apparent. She swayed slightly, and I watched as she reached to touch her forehead. Her heartbeat was weaker._

"_Rest, Nana," I murmured, watching her with concern. "I will leave when you rest, and you will not see me again," I promised._

"_Victoria?"_

"_Yes?" I watched as she laid her head back down, watching me the whole time._

"_I do not believe ye are of bad heart. I cannot begin to understand what transformation ye went through, or the pain, but ye are still Victoria, and ye are still a good person," she said, trailing off as sleep overtook her weakening body._

"_I am not so sure of that," I murmured softly, watching her sleep. "Rest well, dear Nana."_

"Victoria?"

I was startled out of my memories. Nana was gone. I had hovered about London and listened for word of her passing. I had ghosted along the tree-lined edges of the graveyard, out of sight, and watched as she was laid to rest. I paid my respects that evening. I did not know where Winnifred was, I did not care. It was possible she was alive, though unlikely. It was not as though the events took forever to happen – time flew by me as if I were standing still. I was static. Unchanging. I was no longer bound to the ties of time. I did not change; I did not grow old, tired, sleepy, or weary.

James had been, easily, my savior. In a world I knew little about, he understood more than I did. He had explained some very important things to me that I would never have guessed had he not said anything.

The first and most important thing was that yes, there were more like me. Like us. Many more. And an elite ruling class governed us with a strict set of rules. The primary one was discovery. We were, at all costs, to remain undetected to the human race. James had assured me that my previous exposure was limited to small populations and as long as I did not continue to parade around and feast upon people in broad daylight, I would be safe. Everything we did revolved around remaining hidden. James had explained that many of the things the book had talked about had come around from humans misunderstanding. For example – it was easier to avoid sunlight, not because it burned as it had been interpreted, but because it very easily gave us away for what we were.

We were completely invincible to the humans. Our only enemy was our own kind. James had demonstrated how one may kill another the first day I had met him. The dismemberment and burning ritual did the cause justice.

I had learned so much since that day. So much had changed about how I viewed myself and my new world, and yet so little had changed. I was exactly how I had been, except I had discovered the wonders of men's clothing. Once, when we had been in a bind and one of my dresses had snagged and torn again, he told me to put on a shirt and pair of his pants.

I have not worn a dress since. The freedom that comes with the pants – I can run so much faster, slip around things so much more easily. My only dismay was I did not think to try them sooner. I had no society to impress; no husband to woo. James did not care what I wore – I rather believe he preferred me to wear nothing – so I had very little to lose by running about dressed like a man.

"Victoria?" James touched my hand again and I turned to look at him.

"Yes?"

"You're quiet," he said softly, uncharacteristically thoughtful.

"Just thinking. Fifty years does not seem like a lot, does it?" I asked, wondering out loud.

"Not to us." His voice was quiet. He looked toward me and I met his gaze before looking back out across the blackened water. He was still a moment longer, and the next thing I was aware of was movement. His hands were on my sides, and the next second I was underwater.

I kicked and moved my arms, swimming up to the surface of the water. I breathed the air on instinct, rather than necessity, staring up at his chuckling form standing on the dock.

"What in the world was that for?" I bobbed up and down in the water, my head still spinning from his quickness. A roguish grin flashed across his face, the corners of his mouth lifting up playfully. Had I been human, my heart would have fluttered. He resembled the ghost of Charles in his form. The shape of his jaw, the slope of his lips – all Charles. His eyes were my anchor. They reminded me he was not Charles.

"You looked too thoughtful," he said, as if that accounted for everything. Without warning, he pulled his shirt off over his head before leaping gracefully into the dark water next to me. He surfaced, and I had little time to react before he put his arms around me, pulling me close.

In the darkness, his lips quirked again. Charles. No, no, not Charles. James did not seem to care. Hazardously, he pulled my lips against his, and for a moment, just for that one moment, I let myself get lost. In my mind, I was in Charles' arms again. We had the life we had been forbidden to live. He was holding me, I was kissing him, and the night was our only witness. His hands found my hair, tilting my head up. I brushed my lips against his lightly; his tongue touched mine in response. I sighed. _Charles._

Abruptly, James pulled back and looked at me, confusion evident on his expression. His thumb was still tracing circles over my bottom lip, and he looked interested, amused.

"Who is Charles?"

Had I a heartbeat, it would have stopped. Had I blood, it would have drained from my face.

"W-what?" My voice was breathless, startled.

"You whispered the name Charles," he explained softly. "You also said the name the first time you met me. Who is Charles?" He seemed genuinely interested, though I did detect a hint of a machination behind his eyes. A warning flared in my chest; I trusted this man. He took the form of an angel; the physical representation of my dead lover. He had gently brought me into his world, educated me of the ways of a species I never knew existed. It had seemed too benevolent, and in this moment, as I stared into his eyes, a warning flared. Had there been ulterior motives?

"It is nothing," I said slowly, watching him warily. After all, things could never be unsaid. I could always say them later if I deemed him trustworthy. If fifty years was not enough to warrant trust, I was not sure anything would. My internal instincts warred.

"I want to know, Victoria. Was he your lover?" His desire to know disturbed me and I shook my head.

"Just a friend from a long time ago. You just look like him," I explained. A half-truth. James leaned back, watching me closely. The answer seemed to satisfy him, though I was unsure if he knew there was more to the story and deciding just to wait.

He pushed his wet hair out of his face before touching a strand of my own red hair hanging between us.

"Just a friend," he murmured, watching me mischievously. I knew he did not believe me. That much I could tell. I was grateful when he changed the subject, dropping his dangerous pursuit. "I was thinking of going to France. What do you say to that?"

"I do not speak any French," I explained, frowning. Why go to France? Our wandering life was as pleasant as our existence allowed here in America.

"The people we will be in contact with speak our language, though you could learn French if you wanted while you were there."

"Why do you want to go to France?"

"Your maker is there," he said slowly, watching my reaction. His lips curled into a pleased smile at my reaction: I was sure he saw the hatred that filled my face suddenly. That monster was responsible for killing Charles. I needed no time to think about it, no plans to debate, and no reservations to make. I broke away from James and swam over to the dock, hoisting myself out.

"Where are you going?"

"To France," I said without looking in his direction. As I marched away from the water, I heard his resonating laughter waft across the water and into the darkness around us.

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**Oh dear, I wonder who they might find in France... I don't know anyone who sounds French in _Twilight_, do you? ;)**


	14. Laurent

**Woo! Look! ANOTHER update! I'm rockin' it now. And still writing. Thank you to everyone who is still reading! I really appreciate it all!**

Chapter Fourteen

Laurent

"Your lady, she wears pants," the olive-skinned man across the table commented offhandedly. I pursed my lips together, sizing up his strong build, dark hair, and brilliant red eyes.

"Yes, she does," James said, not bothering to indicate I was not his lady. He turned to look at me, then to his contact. "This is Victoria, my partner in crime," he said, nodding to me and then his friend. "Victoria, this is Laurent, an acquaintance of mine from several years back."

I nodded once to the fair-skinned comrade. James folded and unfolded his hands on the wooden table. We were all sitting around the small kitchen table in an old, abandoned home in the French countryside.

"Where did you get the home," I asked conversationally. I did not like the man before me; something was off about him. His eyes were too honest, as if he were compelling me to trust him. James seemed completely at ease chatting up his old friend. I was not sure if 'friend' was the right word, but it did the sentiment justice. We did not have friends in our world. Our only enemies were our own kind, and the humans were food. There were no friends, just enemies and meals. Had we the need to sleep, I might have felt wary sleeping next to James, allowing my defenses to lower.

"The inhabitants gave it to me many years ago," he said softly, his French accent articulating the English words lightly. He was smiling good-naturedly, the twinkle in his eyes betraying a hidden meaning. James rolled his eyes and turned to me.

"What he means is, the couple living here became his dinner, and no human would dare touch the place afterward. They thought it was haunted." My eyes widened slightly, but in surprise, not horror. The murder of innocents did not bother me any longer. I did not believe there were any innocents. Everyone was a sinner in one way or another.

"I do business here, now," the strange man explained, folding and refolding his hands on the tabletop, the genuine smile on his lips still. "And I hear you are looking for a vampire, am I right, Miss?"

The outdated use of my old honorific caught my attention and I looked to him intently. I glanced to James once and he inclined his head once in Laurent's direction. I flashed my gaze back to the man and nodded once.

James and I had been tracking the bastard across countries for years. As soon as we would get close, he would disappear again. James and I had backtracked to my old home in hopes of retrieving his scent. I had the smell forever in my mind, James did not. I could not enter the home after what had happened there, but James had entered. He had walked out, holding a handful of pine wood from the wall. He had thrust it to me and I had inhaled – the scent had still lingered. I did not doubt he had taken the handful from the wall the monster had broken through with Charles' body.

With James knowing the scent, tracking had become easier. It was a gift to him. He was able to sense when his prey was near, where he was, what he was feeling. He was often able to anticipate his next movement. The vampire we tracked, however, was clever, and had dragged us all the way to Italy. We had been closing in when the cloaked forms of the vampire militia closed in on us. The prey had let slip that we had come to overthrow them and were an immediate threat to be eliminated with no questions. With some clever thinking, I had worked our way out of the predicament, but the target was long gone. We had no inkling of his whereabouts since. That was twenty-three years, one hundred forty-two days, seven hours and six minutes ago. I knew. I was counting. I wanted that man's head It was an entirely different kind of bloodlust.

While tracking, James had picked up information about the man. He had been a Viscount in England, originally, not too far from where I had lived, incidentally. He had been turned two hundred years ago, and was not the wild, uncontrolled beast I had originally thought him to be. He had been traveling, and had gone several weeks without a meal. He had been wild with hunger when we had been the unfortunate couple to fall in his path. Part of me wished he was the uncontrolled monster I had thought – he would not have been so clever in evasion if this were so.

"The Viscount of Duncanny is in town," Laurent said smoothly, touching his fingertips together lightly. "And he has no idea that you are, too," he added, glancing to James.

James closed his eyes and bowed his head for a moment. I watched, knowing he was reaching out, trying to find the Viscount's scent. His head snapped up suddenly.

"What the devil is he doing at the nunnery?"

I startled. A nunnery? I glanced to Laurent as well, as if he might have the answer. Laurent only chuckled dryly and nodded his head. His face was stressed.

"Yes, he seems to like the virgins. I rather wish you find the bastard and finish him; he's causing quite a bit of trouble. I'd just as soon not have _them_ come down on us," he said wryly. I shuddered at the pronoun; _them_ clearly referred to the dark-cloaked forms we had just barely escaped from. Evidently, they had decided our cowardly retreat was not indicative of a threat, and they did not bother to pursue. However, I was not willing to chance that another encounter with them would be peaceful.

James tilted his head in my direction.

"This is your show, sweetheart," he said. "Would you like to go? I shall help you find him, but you may have him," he smiled. He believed I wanted revenge for my death, and I allowed the misunderstanding to exist. It was much easier than explaining I was more interested in the wrongful death of my love.

"Let us go," I said with the sweet feeling of violence starting to fill me. I loved the feeling that rushed over me before an attack. The quick burst of anticipation from a kill was unparalleled. This kill would be the crown of any other and I could barely contain my excitement.

"We must be swift. As soon as we enter the building, he will know we are upon him. If we catch him in the middle of a meal, he will turn upon us like a lioness guarding her kill from another. Are you prepared?"

I nodded once and James rose to his feet. I followed suit, pushing my hand into my pants pocket, my fingertips touching the riverstone and blood red piece of glass inside. _Soon, my love,_ I thought. _Soon._

"Let me come," Laurent said, standing up. "Perhaps I may be of assistance. He knows me. He may not run if I am with you."

James paused, and I watched as he sized the man up. I wished for James to look my way, so that I might indicate with my eyes that I did not think it a good idea.

"Alright," James conceded. I bit back a curse. I would just have to keep my guard up around the stranger. "Shall we?" He nodded once to me before gesturing for Laurent to lead the way. The stranger hesitated briefly, as if uncomfortable being in front before he turned and led the way out the door.

It was the perfect hour – just after sunset. Enough light lingered on the streets to allow any humans out and about to see us and steer clear of our path, but it was dark enough we could move quickly and only leave them wondering at what they thought they saw. We covered the ground from Laurent's home to the nunnery. The scent of sweet blood bloomed in the air, and we all swayed a moment.

Each of us inhaled deeply and took a second to orient ourselves. Laurent put his hand on the door and turned to check that both James and I were in control of our thirst before we proceeded. When we were, he threw the door open.

Without a second's hesitation, James and I threw ourselves into the room. The screams erupted when we found ourselves in the middle of a prayer service. On any other day, we might have feasted, but we had eyes only for one man and he had no blood to spill.

We flew past the women fallen to their knees in prayer, taking down another door. Our cadence was perfect. We did not have to look to each other or signal for an attack. James was with me as I was with him. I sensed him, I knew him, and he, I. We could anticipate the other's move and write the choreography as we danced the dance.

A long tunnel yielded another door, and when those hinges gave way with little complaint, we found what we were looking for. The Viscount dropped the dead woman he was holding, the remaining bits of her blood pooling onto the floor. He stared at me for a moment – and I him. It was the first time I had stood face to face with Charles' killer since that night.

Abruptly, he turned toward a door to flee – but James was already standing there. I took up my stance in front of the door we had already entered as the Viscount looked back to me, trying to decide which of us was a safer bet. I prayed he picked me.

"Well, well, Viscount, you seem to be doing well for yourself," James murmured conversationally. The Viscount snorted once, looking between the two of us, knowing full-well we had not broken into a nunnery to converse with him. We had been tracking him across two continents – and it had not been to invite him to tea.

He feigned a movement but I did not budge from my place. Every instinct in me demanded I hurl myself at the monster before me and rip out his throat. The red glass in my pocket practically burned against my leg. I knew something, though; good things were worth waiting for. I had waited this long, I could wait a bit longer. If I were premature in my movements, it was possible he could escape.

The Viscount studied me for a moment, and he must have seen something in me. Either my murderous thoughts were visible in my eyes, or he simply guessed that I had come for him, but he chose the physically stronger of the two of us and abruptly bolted toward the door James was blocking.

"Viscount!"

The vampire stalled and held his ground, turning to look past me to Laurent.

"Laurent! What are you doing here?"

The casual acquaintance of James strolled on into the room leisurely.

"We just came by to chat."

That moment of hesitation was all I needed. The momentary distraction. One moment, I was blocking the doorway, the next I felt the Viscount's body crash to the floor beneath mine. A howl of agony roared up from his form as I slammed my hand into his shoulder, retching the thing from its socket. I pummeled his chest with blows, making sure I crushed every rib in his body.

He was not moving, so I leaned down close to his face.

"You took something from me," I whispered. "Something important. Something that only the lack of it has kept me going in this hellish body."

When he whimpered, I bit down onto his shoulder, tearing his arm completely off. He screamed again, and I grew tired with our silly game. His yells were beginning to irritate me, so I silenced him with one smooth move of my arm.

I stood up, still holding his head in my hands. I watched in horror as his dismembered hand twitched slightly.

"James!"

"I know, this is why we burn it, too," he said softly. He picked up the one-armed torso and carried it outside. Any conscious nun fainted at the sight of the macabre parade – I followed James with the head and Laurent trailed with the missing arm.

Outside we set up the bonfire. James and Laurent had put their pieces inside the flames already, but I was reluctant to let go of the head. I held it up, staring into his empty eyes. The monster that had changed everything was dead.

_Rest easy, my love._

James seemed to understand – we sat around the fire, watching it burn, but neither man bothered to urge me to relinquish the head. They knew I would when I was ready.

I memorized every contortion of his face, every twist of agony. I was responsible for it. I had brought him to a painful end. Finally, I tossed the head into the flames, and watched the violet plumes rise up. It had been so swift. I head spent years fantasizing about this moment when I would stand and he would be dead. I had played out hundreds of scenarios, each epic and heroic. In a way, the shortness of our long mission seemed anti-climactic.

Half my instinct found it fitting for me to walk into the fire after the head, and destroy myself in a blaze. What was left for me to do now? I had avenged Charles' death, but where did that leave me?

"How do you feel, Victoria?" Laurent's voice moved smoothly across the distance between us, and I glanced to his calm face. I thought about the question long and hard. How _did_ I feel?

"I feel..." I trailed off, considering the question carefully. "...good," I finished, seemingly only surprising myself. James and Laurent only nodded once as I returned my attention to myself. I did feel good. I felt like I had done something worthwhile. The thrill of the kill was still lingering, as well. I could always kill myself later – it did not have to be now.

The boys were laughing about something one of them had said when they recaptured my attention. I glanced to their faces across the fire. James – the spitting image of my Charles in many ways, and yet in many more he was not. I had come to love him with the same intensity that I loved Charles, but it was a very different love. No two loves were really ever quite the same. How could they be when the people being loved were very different? Had I found the Viscount on my own and never met James, I was nearly certain I would have thrown myself into the fire after him. There would have been nothing left for me at that point. But now there was James. The dark look he suddenly passed me across the warm glow of the flames told me that he wanted just a little bit more from me.

My body tingled to life. It had been, quite literally, decades since I had last been intimate. It was not until his dark, desiring look had flashed across the space between us and reawakened my own personal fire inside of me that I realized my cold, dead body was capable of such passion still. To quiet the new round of emotions, I turned my attention on Laurent.

"How did you come to meet James?" The dark-haired man laughed naturally.

"We ended up tracking the same man and decided to join forces. We discovered a mutual talent within each other. James has a very keen instinct for tracking – I had had a hard time hunting the man down."

"Laurent is very good with talking to people, soothing them. He incubates trust. I had gotten close to the target several times, but he had managed to slip away. Between the two of us, Laurent was able to smooth-talk the man down and keep him from running, but I was able to find him in the first place," James explained, his elbows perched on his knees as he sat on a log. It was a gruesome sort of campfire scene – the lingering ashes of our kill were still flitting into the air.

"It almost went according to plan," Laurent said absentmindedly. "That was... a decade ago?"

"Just about," James conceded, grumbling. "Only one to ever get away," he muttered.

"But I thought you got the target," I asked, leaning forward toward them.

"Oh we did," Laurent said, glancing to James' sulking frame. "But he created a newborn right before we closed in on him. He saved her from us. He knew we were looking to kill her too, so he changed her. We never found her. Was that at that old asylum?" Laurent turned to look at James to see him nod. Laurent turned back and nodded to me. "It was quite the disaster. We sure could have used your talent for slipping out of tight situations."

I just shrugged nonchalantly. I still did not buy into the evasion talent that Laurent had been convinced I possessed. I was no more keen nor any stealthier than any other. Right?

"Victoria," James began, touching his fingertips together lightly. I focused my attention on him. "I was thinking about asking Laurent to travel with us," he said slowly. My eyes shifted from James to Laurent. "I think he would be very useful to our group. We are very strong together, my dear, do not misunderstand me, but with that strength comes raw power. Laurent has a gift with words. He is controlled and can speak to vampires and humans alike, gain the trust of others and talk his way into and out of situations. While we are strong, we lack an open communications line. What do you think?"

I considered it for a moment. James was right; Laurent _did_ have a way with words that James and I both dearly lacked. And James was right in that we could most definitely use someone like Laurent. Part of me was selfish and wanted James to myself every minute of the time. The emotional response startled me. I had been so consumed with following the Viscount, I had not realized I had been falling for James the entire time.

The other part of me was leery; yes, Laurent could be useful because he could persuade people to trust him – how did we know he was not doing the same to us? I decided the benefits outweighed the consequences.

"I think you are right," I said, then turned to Laurent. "Welcome," I said, nodding once. Laurent smiled lightly and nodded his head to each of us.

"Thank you," he said. "I think we can truly benefit each other." I nodded. Perhaps he was right. I had little to lose anyway. The Viscount was dead. If Laurent turned traitor, perhaps he would do me a favor by killing me.

I glanced back to James and caught him looking at me with the same roguish dark look. Had I a heart, it would have fluttered. Had I blood, I would have blushed. Instead, I could only return his hypnotizing stare across the fire. Without taking his eyes from me, he slowly rose to his feet, his muscled form rippling as he did so. Every line, every contour stood out in sharp relief against the fire. His muscles twisted with each step, and his arm flexed as he extended his hand to me.

Helpless like the maiden I had been eons ago, I numbly placed my hand in his, allowing his seductive stare to work its black magic on my body. I slowly stood to stand beside him, and his eyes draped over my body shamelessly.

"Now," he whispered huskily. "Let's get you out of those pants." My gaze flitted over his shoulder toward Laurent and found the man had wisely vacated the area. "Do not worry for him," James murmured, catching my chin between his fingers. "He will be back later."

"James," I murmured softly, feeling a little unsure of myself for the first time in an extremely long while.

"Shh." His finger touched my lip. "Don't speak." He gave me a knowing look as his hands captured my body.

That night I had righted a horrible wrong in the world – I had taken revenge for Charles' murder. That night, I gave myself to James. Charles was dead, I could never bring him back. I had avenged his death. He was resting in peace. It was now time for me to live again.


	15. Forks

**Look! I wrote another chapter! Finally! I'm actually working on 16, but that's never a sure bet until I finish it. I am, however, inspired right now. I hope it lasts long enough to get me through more than one chapter. But I have plans for this story, now we're getting into the fun part. To everyone who is still with me - thank you for sticking this story out. I've really fallen in love with it. To everyone joining me - I hope you enjoy it as much as I do. On with the story! Love, Ren**

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Chapter Fifteen

Forks

America, 2005

We had been walking for days. Perhaps longer. In the wilderness, especially under cover of clouds and trees, we did not have to take shelter from the sun. No one around would see us, and if some unlikely hiker were to find us, he would not ever speak of the glowing angels of death.

"I want new pants," I murmured, glancing to James. Laurent chuckled behind me softly. I shot him a look. "I am serious. Look," I pointed to the tears and stains in my blue jeans.

Ever since the Viscount's death, time had rolled relentlessly forward, surrounding us and changing everything else. We were merely along for the ride. We had left France and taken up a wandering life in America again. We had seen Pearl Harbor take an air strike from the Japanese military. We had watched the country go to war all around us. Fashion changed, language changed. We evolved with these changes, changing our language slightly and adapting to new technology, but nothing else moved. Occasionally, hollow ghosts of our originating times surfaced in our speech or mannerisms. Even a hundred years could not undo that. Perhaps if we lived with humans, among them, and tried to blend in, more would change. We had no reason to. Anyone who was close enough to notice that something was off would not live long enough to dwell on the idea. Still, James and I were not completely independent of time. Every so often, we would break into an electronics store and see what was new, steal nearly everything, and then explore what had developed in the last year.

The advent of the blue jeans had been fantastic, second only to the cell phone. I thumbed the slim blue flip phone in my pocket. I did not have a phonebook, I only had one number to memorize: James'. It was the only material item that I had obtained legally. A working phone was invaluable when we were separated, and while it was possible to get by stealing a new one, inevitably the number would be disconnected within days. It was much easier to purchase two legally and pay enough for six months ahead of time and not need to worry about the number being disconnected. Granted the money we had used to buy them was obtained illegally, but at least the phones were kosher.

Laurent plodded behind us, silent and musing as ever. James looked over me closely, thinking.

"You could always take them off if you don't like them," he said matter-of-factly, a playful sparkle lingering in his eyes. I stared at him intently, rolling the idea over in my mind. It did not seem like such a bad idea. Though some nuances of our old cultures remained forever sewn into the fabric of our minds, other nuances changed. For example, James and I spoke of things I would have been ashamed to even think of a hundred years ago. We did things together – and apart – that I would have never dreamed of. With time and immortality came a freedom unlike any other. I glanced down to my torn and tattered pants.

"I still want new ones. And a shower. It's about time, do you think?" I looked to James who shrugged. I looked then to Laurent. Laurent had become less of a subordinate with a talent and more of a leader. His diplomatic nature made him easy to talk to, to discuss ideas with, and his insight was often wise. He just fell into the spot of wise, passive director of our little band of nomads.

"I don't see why not," Laurent said. "I think there's a city a little further north. We can even catch a meal there. Will that do?"

"Do they have blue jeans?" I asked smartly, shooting him a look to rival my wild hair.

"I'm sure they do," James said comfortingly. I nodded once.

"Hurry then!" I did not wait for affirmation; I took off running in our new direction. I heard the boys exchange a surprised word or two, followed by banter at my expense about girls and clothes. I ignored them, making a straight line due north for whatever conglomeration of humans happened to be so unfortunate to be in my path.

***

"What the hell? Who names a town 'Forks'?" James turned to look at Laurent in surprise. Laurent only shrugged helplessly. I, on the other hand, was beyond caring what the name of the town was. I just wanted some clothes.

"Victoria!" I stopped, sighing, frustrated.

"Yes, Laurent?" I turned to face him, trying to hide my impatience.

"...tact. I know you really want your... pants. But we must wait until nightfall and break into a store. Sadly, today is not in your favor. The sun is out," he said, pointing up.

"The hell with it," I said. "Who cares if they see? What can they do to stop us?" I was beyond frustrated.

"Well, the humans can do nothing. But _they_ most certainly can," Laurent said wisely. James and I both went cold at the inflection in the pronoun. "And," he continued, "given your previous run-in with them, I would advise you to be as cautious as you possibly can. You do not want to attract their attention."

I turned away, grumbling. Laurent was right. I think I hated the fact that he was right more than I hated not getting new pants for a couple more hours.

"I know what will cheer you up, sugarbuns," James said coming up behind me, his hands landing low on my hips suggestively. His chin rested on my shoulder and his hips bucked against my rear lightly.

"No, I want-"

"Pants, we know," Laurent said exasperatedly. I locked eyes with him, and he with I. I stared him down mercilessly, and finally the Frenchman gave in, and with a roll of his eyes turned his attention on James.

"Maybe some food will calm her down," he suggested.

James nodded once. "I'm in favor of that."

"We need to be discreet. Stick to the edges of the forest, we shan't go into the town until after dark," Laurent cautioned. Shan't? _Shan't?_ I raised an eyebrow.

"Your language is dating you again," I muttered dryly, walking past him and toward the town, keeping to the edge of the forest. If we were going to eat, I wanted first dibs. The first building I walked by from the cover of the trees was the Forks Nursing Home. I shot James a look over my shoulder and chuckled when I met his horrified stare.

I laughed. It wasn't though I'd regret it, well, actually I would. But not because I would feel bad for killing someone's Grandma. I'd regret it because they taste _old_. Dry, brittle, weak. There was no energy for our kind in that food supply. No, the elderly were in no danger from the Immortal. They merely had to contend with their own age.

I glanced over my shoulder toward the thick, green woods. I stared, the dense underbrush compelling.

"What is it?" James came up behind me, followed by Laurent.

"Trails."

The two boys turned their heads to look where I was looking, and sure enough, a trail lead up into the forest, then split off into multiple branches.

"It's sunny out," James was commenting.

"-and the humans would think it is a good day for hiking," Laurent finished for him.

"Hiking is very dangerous," I murmured thoughtfully, starting toward the trails. "Accidents happen all the time. People disappear. Get attacked by animals," I paused, looking over my shoulder to see if they were following me. "People don't come home from hiking all the time, and it's all… …perfectly natural."

Laurent and James smiled wickedly at the same time before falling into place behind me as we slipped into the woods.

"And the little Miss has learned how to be discreet," Laurent commented off handedly as I paused to inhale, trying to catch the scent of a hapless hiker. Fortunately for him, I caught wind of fresh blood before I responded to him, and immediately I didn't care about Laurent. I wanted first kill. If I didn't get pants until nightfall, I would have my meal first. I took off running without warning, a unison shout of surprise flaring up behind me. Silly boys. They'd never catch me, anyway.

***

It was a pity, in a tragic, petty sort of way. She had been pretty. Before I ripped her throat out. She had soft, shoulder-length blond hair and had had the prettiest, widest blue eyes, though the latter could have been due to death swooping down on her. I had already finished my meal when Laurent and James caught up. James cussed. Laurent sighed.

"You kind of made a mess," James said, irritated he didn't get to partake. I wasn't planning on letting him share, anyway.

"Well, I could be neater, but then if any rangers found her, she'd have a neat little row of teeth punched into the skin on her throat and nothing else. At least this looks like a bear attack," I said, getting up. "If you hurry, you can catch her two friends. They went screaming that way," I pointed down one of the paths. Neither hesitated. Both boys were flying down the path, trying to catch the remaining two hikers. Just as well, it would be easier if they didn't make it to town screaming about monsters. I didn't doubt that they would catch up.

I stood standing on the trail, listening.

"Three… two…" I counted down slowly, waiting for it. Before I hit the last number, I heard growls followed by shrieks and howls. I glanced down at the girl at my feet. "Sorry honey, they didn't make it like you hoped." I stared at her a little longer. Her mouth was open in a silent scream, her blue eyes still wide open. Death had been quick for her. She had only known fear, not pain. It was the best I could do.

There was something disturbing about her. I had killed before. Most on purpose but some on accident. Perhaps I had never been left alone with the dead before. Her eyes haunted me, staring up at me from the grave I had thrown her in to. Perhaps it was her youth. Or innocence. Though I had decided a long time ago no human was completely innocent. Maybe it was the way her empty eyes stared accusingly at me, as if she knew what I was and what I had done, even though death had been so swift she barely saw it coming. The others had it worse – they had seen me fall on their friend, and then saw my friends come upon them. James had a penchant for playing with his food, so I had a feeling the girl had had it easy. And yet, she haunted me.

A low rumble in the distance caught my attention and I snapped my head up to the sky. Rather, what little of it that I could see. Trees obscured most of the bright blue sky, but I could see just enough to tell it was no longer bright blue.

"Is that a storm?" James' voice came from behind me. I kept looking at the sky, unfazed by his near-silent approach.

"Can we please go in to town if it is?"

"_If_ the storm actually comes and makes it dark enough that we can stay discreet, yes Victoria."

"Damn it, Laurent, I want-"

"Pants," Laurent and James said in unison. I turned around to glare at the two as they dabbed their lips daintily.

"Is that a kerchief," I asked Laurent as he paused mid-dab, a lacey, white thing hanging from his fingers. "What is that from? The 1800s?"

"Actually," Laurent began, but James stepped in between us.

"Listen," he said. I frowned around James at Laurent, but stayed quiet, listening.

"What do you hear?" I didn't need to wait long after I asked the question to hear my answer. Thunder rumbled in the distance, but there was something else. A loud crack. It could have been thunder, but it wasn't.

"Now what do you suppose that is?" Laurent mused aloud as I looked around. James started forward, moving toward the sound. It was several miles away, and I had to admit, I was very curious. I followed in behind him, and Laurent joined up quickly. Another crash sounded. We had gone barely a mile toward the sounds when I froze.

"I know what the sound is," I said. If my blood were warm, it would have chilled. If my heart were beating, it would have faltered. "Do you smell that?"

The other two halted, gathering up around me.

"Oh, oh no," Laurent murmured, shaking his head. "Another vampire. That makes more sense. I couldn't understand what a human could do to make that noise."

"But what would a vampire do to make that noise?" I glanced to Laurent, still confused. "Should we leave them be or investigate?" I had to admit, I wanted to investigate.

"We could go see, I smell… only one vampire here, but be aware, there might be others."

"How many could there be? Maybe a pair," James said offhandedly, starting toward the sound again. Laurent and I followed in behind, walking along. We drifted closer, and I passed the scent of a second, different vampire. I made an audible note of it so the other two would know if they didn't catch the scent.

About a mile from where the crashing noises were, I stopped.

"Baseball," I murmured. Confused sounds came from Laurent and James as they turned to face me. "They're playing baseball," I repeated, walking over to a thick bush and pulling an old, abused, forgotten baseball out. It had cracks in the side – cracks that no human could have ever imparted on a baseball.

"Fascinating," Laurent murmured. We turned back toward the silent clearing a mile ahead. "A game. How long has it been since we played?"

I shook my head and James shrugged in response. It had been decades since we had engaged in something so human.

"I want to play," I said after a moment.

"I thought you wanted pan-" before James could finish the sentence, without looking I thrust my arm out to the side and knocked him into a tree. I did anticipate his rebound as he knocked me off my feet, and we fell into the bushes.

"Come now," Laurent said. "Shall we go?"

"Yes," James said, hopping up, his eyes alight with the prospect of playing a game with more of our own kind. "If they are playing, they would surely let us join, would they not?"

Before either Laurent and I could say anything, James took off running toward the clearing, Laurent and I following in behind him. I noticed a moment later that the sound of baseball had stopped.

We came to a halt not too far from where the noise was to gather ourselves. They had not continued playing.

"They must know we're coming somehow," Laurent commented. "Let us be careful about how we do this. Perhaps they are not as friendly as we thought," he murmured softly. James and I exchanged glances and nodded once.

James grinned once before glancing to where the clearing was.

"Game on," he murmured wickedly, slipping through the last bush and emerging into the clearing. Laurent followed behind him and I went brought up the rear.


End file.
